


Hearts of Fabric, Paint and Snow

by TruthandLies



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/F, Minor Jane/Li Lonnie, Minor Jay/Carlos de Vil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-17 08:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13072662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruthandLies/pseuds/TruthandLies
Summary: Within these pages, you will journey through five different Christmases and a wedding, each a part of the love story between Mal and Evie. You will watch them meet as children; see them overcome all types of obstacles, including two very unaccepting mothers; and triumph with them as they find the strength to overcome their setbacks, and discover the magic in their pure, unbreakable bond.This is a story about Christmas, but make no mistake: This story spans the seasons -- the summer after high school graduation, when the VKs find their freedom and each other on a magical road trip; the first fall of college, when Mal and Evie begin their journey on the road to adulthood; and the spring when Mal and Evie start a family of their own.Included in this tale are graphics which will add a whole new dimension to the journey.





	1. The First Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a Christmas gift for the Malvie fandom, where I've finally found my voice after two years of writer's block. 
> 
> Writing this story was cathartic. I can't tell you how many times my heart raced. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> All images licensed by the public domain.

  
  


“Evelyn, step away from the books.” Evie’s momma beckons from store shelves decorated with tinsel and lined with wrinkle cream, her fingers curled like claws. “Good little girls don’t fill their heads with such nonsense. Especially those who have reached the age of six, and would do better searching for makeup to cover the unsightly blemishes of their skin.”

“But, momma.” Evie slides her fingers along the silken spine of a book. “It’s all about science. See?” She lifts the book from the shelf. Opens it to a rat-chewed page showing pictures of magnets. “There are magnets. And …” She flips to the next page, which shows images of flame. “And fire, too. And since it’s Christmas –”

“Evelyn Ruby Grimhilde.” Evie’s momma seems to inflate three sizes, until she has transformed into a towering shadow with snapping brown eyes. “What have I told you about talking back?”

All around the odd-place shop, with its dried-out Christmas tree and its broken candy canes, people stop and stare. 

Jafar juts up his pointed chin, studying Evie along the length of his nose. 

The evil stepsisters smirk, staring at Evie as though she is one of the rodents scurrying along the backs of the worm-eaten shelves. 

And the evil dragon lady flashes electric eyes, screwing her angled face into a grin when Evie squirms and shifts behind a fall of silver garland.

“That princes don’t like girls who think for themselves.” Evie recites the well-worn words, hiding beneath her blue waves. “And that my goal in life is to marry a prince.”

“That’s right.” Her momma's voice is woven with thread-bare fabrics of approval. “Now go search for makeup to darken your eyelashes. They really are too pale.”

Evie slaps her hand to her eye, a smack of skin-against-skin. _Ouch._ “Yes, momma.”

Slinking away from the multi-colored books with their rich-girl’s words about science and history, she drifts through the store and pretends to look for makeup. But inside, her heart is cracking like a broken ornament. _Momma never lets me do anything fun for Christmas._ She drags her slippered-toe along the ground. _It’s always makeup and princes._

But Evie doesn’t want to look for makeup today. She wants to dream about magnets. So she slips behind the brown-needled Christmas tree.

And jumps when the tree speaks.

“Hey,” whispers a voice with a spark like dragon fire.

Evie stares through the barren branches. And discovers a pair of eyes so green, they give the tree new life.

Small flames ignite themselves in Evie's cheeks. “Hi.”

The owner of the eyes wrinkles her tiny button nose. “You don’t really believe that stuff about princes, do you?”

“Don’t know.” Evie shrugs. “Momma thinks I should.”

“I think you should learn about science.” The little girl raises her chin. “Who needs a prince when you can play with magnets and fire?”

There’s a daring edge in the little girl’s voice. A daring edge that slides along Evie’s mind, slipping inside with its disregard for the rules and its willingness to forego princes. 

A daring edge that makes Evie grin. 

Who needs a prince indeed when there are science books and girls with dimples peeking out onto their perfect cheeks?

Evie is about to say so when the dragon lady swoops in, her eyes electrified like they’ve been charged by Ursula’s evil eels. “Mal Bertha, I do hope you’re not being nice to the other children.”

Mal Bertha jumps back from the tree, her purple hair flying up in odd directions. “I was just talking.”

“Well, stop.” The dragon lady clutches a hand to her hip. “And do something evil. There.” She points a taloned finger at a small girl clutching a tattered ragdoll. “Go take that child’s doll.”

“But, Mom.” Mal’s eyes liquify in the lights of the tree. “It’s Christmas. I can’t – ”

“Uh-uh-uh.” The dragon lady pounces on Mal, leaning so close, their noses touch. “If you tell me you can’t steal on Christmas, I’ll banish you to the broom closet for a week.”

From behind the needles of the Christmas tree, Evie watches Mal’s eyes transform into a green every bit as electric as her mother’s. 

But the dragon lady’s eyes glow, too. 

Glow so bright, Evie clutches the tree, terrified the woman will electricute her own daughter.

Mal bunches her mouth and squares her shoulders, but she is no match for her mother. Her green-eyed glow fizzles and fades. And she becomes a little girl with rounded shoulders and a defeated frown. “Fine. I’ll steal the doll.”

“That’s my naughty little girl.” The dragon lady pats Mal’s head.

Mal twists away from her mother. 

And marches to the child clutching her prized doll. “Mine now.” She tugs the toy from the child’s arms.

The child jumps into the air to catch her dollie, but Mal holds it high enough that she cannot reach. 

“Mommy! Mommy!” The child bursts into sobs. “That mean girl took my dollie.”

Mal squeezes her eyes shut. And when the mother takes one frightened look at her purple hair and tugs her child from the store, Mal cradles the doll to her chest. And smooths a hand over the doll’s yellow-yarn hair, murmuring something Evie cannot hear.

Evie’s heart cracks. Because Mal doesn’t look evil or mean.

Mal looks as broken as half the ornaments on the dying Christmas tree.

Without thought, Evie drifts out from behind the tree. Past Jafar’s small son, who shoves candy canes into his pockets. Past Cruella’s even smaller son, who clings to his mother’s coat. Past the wicked stepsisters’ baby, who flails her arms and screams.

She steps past them all, until she is standing beside Mal, who is cradling the doll. And she slips her fingers into Mal’s hand. “It’s okay, Mal. Maybe her momma will buy her another doll.”

Mal gasps and opens her eyes. 

Their gazes meet, and Evie feels something warm all the way to her toes. Kinda like she’s standing in firelight, and it’s dancing across her skin. Only inside, too, like the fire has crept into her heart.

“Evelyn, drop that girl’s hand.” Evie’s momma swoops through the store, dropping her wrinkle cream onto a shelf colored bright with fabric hearts. “You do not touch little girls. And you certainly do not look at them like that.”

But Evie squeezes Mal’s hand tight. And Mal squeezes back.

“Stop disobeying me at once." Evie’s momma grabs Evie’s shoulder and yanks, breaking her connection with Mal. "You’re being a very naughty girl.”

“Teaching your daughter how to hook herself a prince?” The dragon lady glowers from beside the Christmas tree, her smile horned like a serpent’s.

“Just as you’re teaching your daughter to be a miserable miscreant.” Evie’s momma casts Mal a look that, if her momma still had magic, would turn the girl into a rat. “Stay away from my daughter, you rodent.”

With that, Evie’s momma tries to sweep Evie away.

But Mal is clinging so tight to the tattered doll, her eyes shiny with tears, that Evie feels her new friend’s pain.

So when Evie’s momma pulls Evie from the shop, Evie does something naughty. Without paying, she slips from a shelf a cotton-filled, fabric heart as green as Mal’s eyes. And puts it into Mal’s pocket.

Mal doesn’t notice. 

She’ll never know the heart came from Evie. 

But Evie hopes that when she finds it, she understands that someone out there cares about her. Even if Evie’s momma and Mal’s mother the dragon do not.

  
  


Evie’s momma notices the heart.

And chooses to breaks Evie’s. 

“That girl will not come to your birthday party, Evelyn.” She glares at Evie from beneath triangle-eyebrows set into a face carved from glass. “We do not give little girls hearts. We save our hearts for little boys. Little boys who are –”

“Princes.” Evie slides down to the floor until she is a knot on the ground. “I know, momma.”

“Good.” Her momma flounces from the room. “And don’t you forget it.” Her words carry back, echoes of anger.

After that, there is a birthday-party-gone-wrong, broken up by a dragon lady vengeful that her daughter was not invited, who banishes Evie and her mother to a castle on the outskirts of the Isle. 

And then there are ten long years without the girl with the green eyes. 

Ten years of lessons about makeup.

Ten years of learning everything she must do to fix her complexion.

Ten years of struggling to become the fairest. The fairest of them all. And realizing that no matter how fair she is trained to become, she will never fulfill her mother’s wishes. Because at night, when she falls asleep into uneasy dreams, she does not dream about princes.

She dreams about a little girl brave enough to stand up to her mother, even though her mother is the scariest of them all. 

Dreams which become more vivid at Christmastime. Ten years of Christmases during which Evie dreams about Christmas trees brought to life by a spark of green, and a girl who thinks Evie can be something more than a princess.

And even though Evie is losing her fight against her mother, giving into lessons about princes and prince-catching, she never forgets: Somewhere on the Isle, a girl with fiery green eyes carries her heart.

  
  



	2. The Second Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls celebrate Christmas as 16-year-olds on the Isle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point forward, most pictures are licensed by the public domain. The exception are those pieces of images that come from the Descendants' franchise, which have been transformed in the pursuit of art and in the interests of celebrating these wonderful characters. I do not own these characters, nor do I make any money from these stories.

 

  


Mothers can be cruel.

Mothers who are witches or demons with dragon fangs can be crueler. 

They can reach through the fabric of time, upsetting the clock – sometimes by ten years – and unspelling all the good their daughters might have crafted in the hours, minutes, seconds of their lives.

Sometimes, mothers play with the clock by making daughters forget. Forget those life-changing moments that tick together, creating the definition of a girl.

Like when a beautiful princess dreams not about catching a prince, but about catching the knowledge she might gain from a book.

Or when a young dragon-hearted daughter stands up to her mother, refusing to be cruel to another child on Christmas.

Sometimes, when a mother reaches through the fabric of time, making her daughter forget the moments that define her, she can replace those moments with new definitions.

Such as by turning a book-loving princess into a girl who learns to play dumb and cater to classes in vanity.

_Because boys like vain girls, Evelyn. And princes won’t love you unless you’re pretty. Now figure out a way to get rid of that unibrow._

Or when a girl whose eyes glow fierce with dragon green stops refusing to be cruel, and embraces cruelty as a goal in life. When she stops refusing to steal from children, and starts stealing their toys and their candy. And when she spends her days scheming up cruel acts to commit against a beautiful princess who failed to invite her to her birthday party.

Because even though Evie never forgot the green-eyed girl who carries her heart … the green-eyed girl has forgotten everything but hatred towards Evie.

It goes like this: Evie breaks free of her castle-banished solitude and starts attending school with Mal at Dragon Hall. And Mal, whose heart broke the day she was snubbed by her blue-haired friend, dedicates herself to making Evie’s life miserable, such as by attempting to get Evie to touch a scepter that will plunge her into a thousand-year sleep.

Evie, the girl who Mal first glimpsed through the branches of a Christmas tree. The child she had counted as a new friend, whose hand she’d held even as Evie’s momma bore down upon them both.

Evie, the girl who’d disappeared with a mother who’d looked at Mal as though she was the lowest of sidekicks. And who had failed to invite Mal to her birthday party.

Evie, the last child Mal had ever shown kindness. 

The day after Evie’s birthday party, Mal made a point of kicking three children in the shins and stealing a little boy’s popsicle.

_“That’s my naughty little girl,” her mother had purred, patting her head. “Keep it up, and you’ll be more like me in no time.”_

And it’s fascinating, really, the way a daughter’s heart will beat with new life the moment a mother gifts them a compliment, flashing them a smile filled with pride. 

Because mothers may be cruel. But their praise has a way of transforming the defining fabric of a daughter’s heart. Ripping the carefully sewn stitches and punching the fabric together with staples, which conceal anything vulnerable and real.

So when Mal and Evie meet ten years after their mothers tear them apart, they are new people.

Only not.

Because their mothers may have clamped their fists around the fabric of their hearts. 

But Mal still saves Evie from sleep-by-scepter, even going so far as to touch the scepter herself. She still learns to count Evie as a friend, accepting her as a bonafide member of their four-person gang (which includes two boys last seen in an odd-place shop and who will appear later in this chapter). And within weeks of Evie’s reappearance, she still starts making excuses to spend time with the girl who once had the audacity to ask for a book about science.

“Still searching for truth about magnets?” Mal asks one day, as they huddle together in an old warehouse on the outskirts of the Isle. Mal spray paints their faces onto the cement walls, while Evie works on polishing a cracked full-length mirror stolen from a supply ship.

“Don’t be silly.” Evie blows her breath against the glass, obscuring her reflection. “I’m too busy focusing on my face. Beauty isn’t born, Mal."

Silence stretches between them, the only sound crawling up from the street below in bits of screams and shattering glass.

Somewhere, a clock ticks down time. And Mal’s footsteps mingle with the outside screams. Until she is standing behind Evie, her hand curled around Evie’s shoulder. “Whoever said beauty was more important than knowledge?"

Evie meets Mal’s gaze in the mirror’s spiderwebs of cracks. And shivers.

Shivers because Mal’s fingers are kneading her skin.

Shivers because Mal’s green eyes reflect the image of a girl Evie met on a Christmas long ago.

Evie claims Mal’s hand beneath her own. “Did you forget who I’ve lived with the past ten years, Mal? My mother says."

“Well, your mother’s wrong.” Mal leans her head against Evie’s. She gazes down at her toes. And then back up into Evie’s eyes.“And whoever said you weren’t beautiful?”

“My mother."

“Well, your mother’s wrong.” Mal tweaks one of Evie’s blue curls.

Mal’s eyes are deeper and greener than Evie’s ever seen them. Mal, the cruel dragon with a can of spray paint has somehow transformed.

Evie draws back a breath. “What happened to the girl who tried to put me to sleep, M?”

Mal blinks. “M?”

And Evie realizes that it’s the first time she’s ever spoken the nickname aloud, even though it’s been bouncing in her head for weeks.

“Get used to it.” Evie caresses Mal’s hand. “I think it’s gonna stick.”

Mal swallows. And her gaze shutters. Shutters until it is no longer deep and green, but careful. Guarded. Closed-off. “I think I’m gonna finish our portraits.” She disentangles her hand from Evie’s and steps away.

Then stops.

And turns. A smile spasms at the corner of her lips. “Then I’ll make a wall for you, E. You know. So you’ll have a place to study books. If you want.”

And Mal knows: Evie may pretend to be interested only in princes. But she still thrills every time she learns new knowledge. 

And Mal doesn’t know: Evie may pretend the nickname doesn’t mean anything, but she still shivers every time she and Mal touch. Every time she touches the girl who once-upon-a-time stood up to her dragon-lady mother. The girl who, in rare moments, slips a green-fabric heart from the pocket of her leather pants, twisting it between her fingertips.

Every time, Evie’s own heart parries into her throat. 

“Where’d you get that heart?” Evie asks, kicking her boots against the edge of a tin roof. Watching from up high as the ships sail into the December harbor.

Mal shrugs. “Someone stuck it into my pocket a long time ago.” Her words are distant, faded. But she lifts the heart to her lips, almost as if kissing the memory.

Evie hides a smile, even as her pulse thunders through her ears. _And do you stick every gift against your lips, M?_

But she doesn’t give voice to the thought. Because she knows Mal. And she knows that a thought like that will only make Mal hide.

Instead, she asks: “So why do you carry it?”

But even in that question, there’s something knowing in Evie’s voice. Something stitched together with heartbeats of emotion.

Something she and Mal both hear.

Crimson flames flicker in Mal’s cheeks. And she fists her hand around the heart, jerking her head to stare at Evie. “Maybe I keep it to remind myself that love is weakness.”

“So your mother says.” Evie cradles the hand in which Mal holds her heart. “What about you, M? What do you think?”

From within the depths of Mal’s eyes, Evie glimpses the little girl she saw between the barren branches of a Christmas tree. The little girl who cuddled a tattered ragdoll against her chest, caring for the ragged creature who had been stolen from her child.

Mal knocks back a shivering breath. “Of course love is weakness. Love always leads to someone getting hurt. Why would I want that?”

Evie links her fingers with Mal’s, warming the fabric heart between their hands. “Love isn’t always painful. Think about Christmas.” She waves her free hand at the street below, where Christmas decorations color the sludge-grey landscape. “Even on the Isle, families find a way to be happy. Kids get tattered ragdolls. And little girls become friends around a Christmas tree.”

“Yeah. And then people steal those ragdolls. And the girls become enemies.” Mal breaks eye contact. And stares down at the street, where a browning Christmas tree winks its broken lights in a storefront window and tangled tinsel droops from street lights that haven’t worked in ages. “Look at the streets. They’re filled with Christmas decorations the goody-goodies in Auradon don’t want. Christmas isn’t about love, E. It’s about forgetting we all live in a world where love doesn’t exist.”

Mal tears her hand away from Evie’s. Stuffs the fabric heart back into her pocket. And reaches for a bottle of rum she stole from a pirate too drunk to guard his coat. “Yo ho ho,” she says, knocking back a drink. Coughing when she chugs too much.

Something in Evie’s chest aches. 

Mal has to be wrong.

Love does exist. 

It must feel warm. And safe. And wonderful.

Kinda like being up here on this roof with Mal, where it is just the two of them away from the snowy sludge coating the streets and the glares and gripes of the pirates stalking the sidewalks.

A gust of wind billows from the churning grey sea below, rising to the height of their roof. Mal trembles, jacketless, her arms swollen and red. She passes the rum to Evie.

“Why don’t you ever wear a jacket?” Evie asks, sipping from the bottle. The rum burns her throat, stings her eyes, but coats her in warmth from the inside out.

“Mom burns my jackets.” Mal grabs the bottle. “Says maybe if I’m cold on the outside, I’ll be cold on the inside, too.” She chugs a mouthful of amber liquid, swiping her hand across her mouth.

 _Oh, M._ Without thought, Evie slings her arm around Mal’s shoulder, pulling her close. Massaging warmth into her frigid arms.

Mal stiffens. “What are you doing?”

“Defying your mother.” Evie tilts her head against Mal’s. “Sorry, M. I like you warm.”

“Better not let my mom hear you say that.” Mal drops her head onto Evie’s shoulder.

In the churning grey waters of the sea below, a ship blasts a piercing fog horn and sails into dock. And on the street closer by, two boys bundled in winter wear stop and stare up at Mal and Evie. Jay and Carlos, the other half of their gang.

“Come on, losers!” Jay yells up, hands wrapped around his mouth. “Supplies are here.”

“I gotta get my mom something for Christmas.” Carlos looks pale beneath his popping freckles. “Last year, I failed and she made me stay in her fur closet for weeks.”

“Hold your pants.” Mal stashes the rum on the roof, and she and Evie clamber down to meet the boys.

The next hour is a blur of Mal setting several empty crates on fire (because hey, they need a distraction if they’re going to steal the good stuff); Jay swinging from the ropes of the ship to scoop up treasure while avoiding the snatching hands of Auradon sailors; Carlos knocking the pursuing sailors into the sea; Evie flirting with those who don’t plunge into the water, stealing their scarves and fabric from their crates, while still buying her friends time to escape; and Mal refusing to run because she is too busy conjuring glowing green eyes and scowling at the boys who are fawning over Evie.

And in all the chaos, the four fail to notice the royal guard closing in from behind. Mal and Evie back up together, arm-in-arm, but they’re pursued by sailors on one side and the guard on the other.

Until the door to Lady Tremaine’s opens, and little Dizzy rushes into the street, brandishing a gigantic pair of scissors. With a whoop like a war cry, she rushes at the guard, opening and closing her weapon, causing the men to shout and scatter. 

“Run, Evie! Run, Mal! Run!” Dizzy cries, her pigtails flying up in odd directions.

And because she has created a pathway between the guards, they heed her advice.

Jay and Carlos disappear into a crooked alleyway, whooping over their stolen treasure.

And Mal and Evie sprint down the street, pursued by shouting sailors and, a few blocks later, a recently sobered pirate missing his bottle of rum.

“Come on, E.” Mal grabs Evie’s hand, dragging her down an unlit street into a tin-roof neighborhood. “They can’t see us in the dark.”

Hand-in-hand, they turn down one street and twist down another, until the shouts of the sailors and the curses of the pirate fade and are no more. And then they stop and clutch their hands to their sides, struggling to catch their breath. Fabric spills from Evie’s pockets; alcohol, food and tarnished trinkets spill from a bag Mal’s strung over her shoulder.

The moon shines dim through the Isle barrier, casting crescent light along a street lined with crumbling wooden houses. Most of the houses are shuttered and dark. But one is lit by a dingy porch lamp. 

The lamp casts yellow light across the yard, mingling with the pale white of the slivered-moon. The sludge-grey landscape is bespelled with radiance. A radiance that illuminates something lush and living and green.

“Mal, look.” Evie points at the emerald growth. She presses her fingers into her aching, breath-starved side and shuffles closer for a look.

Nothing ever grows on the Isle.

But there, in a center of green, grows a red satin flower. Fragrant and full of life. 

The only time Evie has ever seen anything like it is in the books she’s snuck from her mother. But those were paper and ink. And this. This is real.

  


“Is that what I think it is?” Mal reaches out to smooth her fingers along the flower. The moon plays along her features, transforming her from stunned girl into a beautiful fae in the act of worshipping a Christmas flower.

A beautiful fae whose arms are swollen and red. Whose cheeks are crimson from cold.

Evie pulls Mal close. And massages warmth into her freezing skin. “See, M? Even when we don’t think things exist, sometimes they do. Like Christmas. And life. And maybe even love.” Her heart sprints at the thought, at the feel of Mal warming in her arms.

“I think you’re dreaming, E.” Mal says in a whisper quieter than the wind.

But with Mal in her arms, Evie’s never been more awake. “Meet me,” she whispers, breathing in Mal and her very Mal scent. “On Christmas morning. In our warehouse.”

“Why? What do you have planned?”

“You’ll see.”

* * *

Evie’s mother has taught her many things. How to put on makeup. How to catch a prince. And how to make clothes from a variety of fabrics, stitching the cloth together in a way that is elegant and fine and every bit fitting of a princess.

Or of a dragon-hearted girl in need of a coat.

So when Mal arrives at the warehouse on Christmas morning, freezing in the December chill, she discovers a Christmas tree set up in the corner, beneath which rests a jacket stitched together from rhinestones and triangles of pink, purple and green, the zipper angled and the collar raised in a way that suits a girl with a dragon heart.

She trembles as Evie wraps her in her present. Gazes into Evie’s eyes with wonder and depth as Evie zips the coat. And leans back into Evie’s arms, the hint of a smile on her face, as they stand before the cracked, full-length mirror, staring at her new source of warmth.

Evie slips her chin onto Mal’s shoulder, savoring the softness of the girl in her arms. “This one, you keep away from your mother. Because if she burns it, I burn her.”

Mal shivers. “No death wishes on Christmas, E. Especially not before I’ve given you your gift.”

Evie raises her eyebrow. “My gift, Mal?”

“Yup.” Mal twirls from Evie’s arms. Steps to the bag she’s tossed into the corner. And pulls out a book.

A book opened to a page about magnets.

A book Evie once glimpsed on the shelf of a store, before her mother forced her to give up knowledge in pursuit of a prince.

Mal dips her gaze beneath her purple bangs. And holds out the treasure. “I know you want to learn. You’re so smart. I thought you could start here.”

Evie’s vision blurs with tears. “You come here.” She points to her side.

Mal’s cheeks flush pink, but she crosses back to Evie. And allows herself to be wrapped in Evie’s arms. 

There are still mothers. There is still cruelty. There are still masks to be worn while the evil queen and the dragon lady hold the timepieces of their daughters’ lives.

Mal will vie for safety in her mother’s acceptance.

And Evie will vie for acceptance in her mother’s princes.

But in that moment, as Evie cuddles Mal in the confines of their warehouse, she’s more sure than ever that there’s also love.

And that it may just be wrapped up in the girl who carries Evie’s heart in her pocket – and on the back of her new jacket, where Evie has painted it in chaotic wisps of green.

“Why?” Mal asks, staring with wide, gleaming eyes at the back of her jacket in the mirror.

Evie smooths her fingers through Mal’s purple-fire hair. “Because I gave you a fabric heart once. And I thought I’d give you a heart of paint, too. To keep you warm.”

Mal slips her hand into Evie’s. And holds on tight. “It was you?”

“Oh, M. It was always me.”

 

  



	3. The Third Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls from age sixteen to eighteen, culminating with a very special Christmas as eighteen-year-olds in Auradon.

If love is weakness, then Evie is most weak when she is with Mal. And Mal is most weak when she is with Evie.

But even in the weakness of love, there is a certain power. A power that overtakes anything Evie has ever known, until all she knows is Mal. All she sees is Mal. All she wants is Mal. Until Mal has eclipsed every bad thing on the Isle with her own dragon-hearted strength.

Like when, two weeks after their sixteenth Christmas, Mal holds Evie’s hand on the way to Dragon Hall. And all Evie registers is the feel of Mal’s fingers threaded through the negative spaces of her hand. 

Or when Mal stops on the edge of the sludge-grey Isle street and pulls Evie to her chest, heart-to-heart, and whispers things into Evie’s ear: _“You’re so smart… beautiful … most beautiful without any makeup … I think about you all the time.”_

And Evie tucks strands of purple fire behind Mal’s ear, brushing feather kisses onto Mal’s jaw. In plain view on the Isle, where the ships pull into dock and the pirates swagger down the streets – things Evie doesn’t notice at all when she is staring into Mal’s fiery green eyes. Or kissing her smooth skin. 

Unfortunately, even the taste of Mal’s skin can’t eclipse the dragon lady’s curses.

Curses she shrieks when she swoops from a shop, electrifying them both with her blazing, green-eyed glare. She grabs Mal by the collar of her Evie-gifted jacket. And tugs her so close, she appears ready to bite. “If I ever see you in this position again, I will throw you into the sea for shark bait. The sharks will kiss you, too. Have you forgotten that love is weakness, my dear girl?”

There is a cackle in the dragon lady’s voice, and absolutely no pride in her eyes.

Mal turns as crimson as a poisoned apple. She trembles in her mother’s fist, but her eyes narrow. And glow green. “Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe love isn’t weakness. Maybe –”

Maleficent’s fist skips from Mal’s collar to her throat, where she squeezes until Mal’s words die.

“Hey!” Evie pushes between Mal and her mother, grabbing at Maleficent’s fist. “Leave her alone.” 

Maleficent whips her green-eyed glower to Evie. And a fanged grin snakes across her face. “Well, well. Look who just volunteered to be shark bait.”

“No.” The word cracks from Mal’s mouth like fissured ice. “No.” She tugs her mother’s fist from her throat. “No.”

“No?” Maleficent pushes into Mal’s space, her snaked grin transforming into a horned smirk.

Mal slides a tortured gaze to Evie, then drops her gaze to the ground. “I get it, Mom. Love is weakness. We’ll stop. Just...” She jerks her gaze up to meet her mother’s. “…don’t hurt Evie.”

“Say it again.” Maleficent curls a taloned finger beneath Mal’s chin. “Love is…”

“Weakness.” The word is as broken as the light in Mal’s eyes.

But her mother beams. “That’s my wicked little girl,” she purrs.

After that, word about Evie and Mal’s embrace leaks to Evie’s mother. And Evie is locked in the castle for a week with no food, only water. 

_Mal sneaks her meals at night, when Evie’s mother is sleeping. Evie chews them beneath the windowsill, while Mal sits on the other side, in the moonlit dark._

_They never talk._

_But sometimes, their fingertips brush when they’re exchanging food. And their eyes meet in gazes stitched from broken longing and shattered regret._

_They do not kiss._

When Evie is freed, their time together and alone on the Isle becomes time together and always with the boys. And in the moments their eyes meet, a hollow ache cuts through Evie’s heart. But she does not seek to fill it. She will do anything to keep Mal from becoming shark bait. Or from hurting because of her mother.

And Mal will do anything to save Evie from her mother’s wrath.

Soon, they both abandon the satin of their souls for the coarse fabric of their mother’s fabricated love.

In the absence of Evie, Mal increases her quests for her mother’s approval. Because if she can become her mother, then maybe her mother will not hurt her. Maybe she will find a way to love her instead.

In the absence of Mal, Evie is forced to spend more time with her mother. More time on lessons about makeup. More time on lessons about princes. Sometimes, her mother invites boys to the castle so that Evie can practice her flirting and her kissing and her sighs.

_After, Evie dives beneath her pillow and blocks the memory of the boys with images of fiery green eyes and whispers about intelligence and natural beauty. But that does nothing to erase the boys’ taste from her lips, or the pain in Mal’s eyes when next they meet._

Evie’s mother sews her a mask crafted from curtsies-and-giggles, makeup rituals and hair twirls. And while Evie sneaks lessons from the books Mal steals from Auradon ships, she starts forgetting to remove the mask she wears to please her mother.

And dragon-hearted Mal, who bears none of her mother’s fangs and all of her own Mal-i-fied dragon-hearted courage, who carries a fabric heart in her pocket and a painted heart on her back, pretends to forget about kindness. And instead chooses cruelty. 

The cruelty of stealing from children. 

The cruelty of shutting out love.

The cruelty of shutting out Evie.

Because if Mal is to do her mother’s bidding, she must embrace the belief that love is weakness. And she is most weak when she is with Evie. 

So when the prince-turned-eventual-king of Auradon invites Mal, Evie and the boys to leave the grey sludge of the Isle for the green forests of the kingdom, Mal focuses not on becoming the person her mother has always kept her from becoming, but on fulfilling her mother’s greatest wish: Steal Fairy Godmother’s wand to spell her mother’s freedom. She schemes and she plots and she wins herself the heart of the prince-turned-king, all in a ploy to get her hands on the wand.

But something happens.

Away from her mother, the dragon-hearted, green-eyed, Christmas-tree girl makes a reappearance. She re-forges her friendship with her friends, with Evie. She chooses good over evil. And she makes another brave choice: She trades the mask her mother carved for her from cruelty for a chance at love.

But she doesn’t choose love with Evie.

The clock stopped on Mal and Evie’s love when the dragon lady curved her fist around the ticking pulse beneath Mal’s throat.

Mal chooses love with King Ben – a love she gained on a quest to earn her mother’s approval.

It turns out that even when daughters are hidden in Auradon, Isle mothers can still play with the heartbeats and clock ticks of their daughters’ lives.

 _And besides_ , Evie tells herself, curled in bed while staring at Mal, who sleeps on the other side of their dorm room, _who am I to get in the way of a king’s love? I’m just a girl who was never even good enough to be loved by her own mother._

But it still hurts. And Evie starts to crack.

On days when Mal smiles secret smiles after her kingly dates … when she whispers sweet words into the king’s ear … when she abandons her Evie-jacket at the back of their closet for a new one made for the king’s lady by an Auradon seamstress _(“Not because I don’t love your jacket, E, but because the etiquette handbook says I have to wear this one instead.”)_ … Evie locks herself in their room and works on her makeup. But no matter how much foundation or blush or lipstick she uses, she can never disguise the blemishes marring her face.

Sometimes, Mal finds Evie hidden beneath her makeup. And her secret smiles fade, replaced by soul-deep frowns. “Why are you wearing so much makeup?” she asks.

Evie’s cheeks flame with heat. “I just…” She swipes at the foundation with a sponge, trying to blend it with her skin. _There. That’s better._

But Mal’s frown deepens. “You just put on even more.”

Evie drops her sponge onto her vanity table. And hides beneath her lashes, which are painted jet black, just the way Mother likes them. “You don’t like it?”

“I like everything about you, E.” Mal shuffles to Evie’s vanity. “The makeup, though … it covers you up.” 

She grips the back of Evie’s chair, twirling her around so they are face-to-face. Their gazes touch and spark, and an electrical surge courses through Evie’s chest. 

Mal swallows. “Can I make you Evie again?” Her voice is a whispery thing, thick with emotion.

“Okay.”

And so Mal takes a tissue from a box on Evie’s vanity. And dabs it against Evie’s cheeks. Her lashes. Her lips. Every dab a caress, every caress deliberate, Mal’s fingers dancing across Evie’s skin. 

When the tissue is foundation-tan and mascara-black and lipstick-crimson, Mal cups Evie’s cheek. “There you are.” She rubs Evie’s cheekbone with her thumb. “So beautiful.”

Evie closes her eyes. And leans into Mal’s touch.

It becomes a ritual. Sometimes, Evie puts on makeup just to feel Mal’s touch on her skin.

Sometimes, Mal touches Evie when Evie’s face is makeup-free. Makes excuses to feather touches on Evie’s cheeks. Her forehead. Her lips. 

Words are never spoken. 

The touches say enough.

_(Mal’s Evie-jacket creeps to the front of the closet, but otherwise, remains trapped inside, a shadow on a coat hanger.)_

As the days in Auradon melt into weeks, as the weeks melt into years … As time ticks forward and they turn eighteen … they find more reasons to touch. 

When Mal’s mother is turned into a lizard because she never found it within her heart to love, not even her own daughter, and Mal sits by the terrarium at night, feeding her mother bits of lettuce while swallowing back tears _(“Why couldn’t you ever love me, Mom? Was I just not good enough?”) …_

_Evie curls Mal in her arms, snuggling her back against her chest, and whispers, “You’re everything, M. Can’t you see that? Your mother was so wrong…”_

_Mal swipes a tear from her eye, nuzzling her cheek to Evie’s thundering heart. “Everything, E?”_

_“Everything.” Evie lifts another of Mal’s tears with the tip of her finger. “You always have been.”_

_And they both know there are exactly two people in the world of_ everything _and_ always.

When Mal discovers that the king she thought was her true love will never truly love her, not for everything she is, fairy-and-dragon, Isle-and-Auradon, studs-and-leather-pants, that perhaps he never really knew her at all, since she’s been hiding behind a mask crafted from her mother-given quest for approval …

_Evie climbs into Mal’s bed at night, curving into Mal’s side, and whispers, “There’s only one Mal. And she’s amazing.”_

_Mal tucks her head beneath Evie’s chin. “Amazing to who, E?” Her words are punched through with tears, sharp with disbelief._

_“Silly M.” Evie tucks a strand of purple fire behind Mal’s ear. “You know the answer. I write it in permanent marker every time we touch.”_

_And Mal places her hand atop Evie’s heart, which is hammering the truth beneath her skin._

When Mal breaks off her relationship with Ben, relinquishing her title as king’s lady, and loses herself to her art, sketches with rough emotional angles and paintings colored with heartbreak-crimson and soulless-black …

_And Evie stores each piece in cellophane because she knows what Mal does not: When Mal breaks open, when she shows her true heart, her artwork comes to life. And someday, Evie hopes Mal’s true heart will show itself in blissful-blue and passionate-purple. But until then, until the day she can keep Mal as her own, she will keep Mal’s artwork safe._

_And then she will dab the paint from Mal’s skin with a tissue, letting her touch linger as Mal closes her eyes and breathes her in._

And sometimes, they touch when Mal tosses her pencil or her paintbrush to the ground, hangs her head, and whispers, “Maybe love really is weakness. Maybe Mom was right…”

_On those days, Evie wraps Mal up in her arms, tangling her fingers in purple fire, and whispers, “Then why is it that when I’m with you, I feel so strong?”_

_And Mal’s heart crashes against Evie’s chest. Not at all weak, but dragon-fierce and powerful._

Sometimes, Mal holds Evie. 

When Evie’s pulling all-nighters, eager to cram her mind full of all the knowledge Auradon has to offer, but terrified she’s going to fail her classes, Mal takes Evie by the hand and leads her to bed. There, she cuddles Evie close, and whispers, “You’re the smartest girl in Auradon. You’ve never failed at anything. There’s no way you’re going to fail at this.” And Evie breathes in Mal, relaxing in her Mal-i-fied scent and the contradiction of softness and strength that is everything dragon-hearted.

Or when Evie receives top marks on all her senior mid-year finals, and Mal meets her in the middle of the hall. Surrounded by students rushing home for the holidays, Mal pulls Evie into a dance. With Evie’s hand tucked in Mal’s, Mal places her lips to Evie’s ear and whispers, “I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you, E.”

Or when Evie receives early admission to Ivy University for a double-course in physics and fashion – physics for the little girl who once dreamed about magnets; fashion for the older one who once sewed a coat for her dragon-hearted girl – and Mal takes Evie into her arms, swaying with her in the light of the moon, which pools in silvers and whites through their dorm room window. “My girl is amazing,” Mal whispers into Evie’s ear, making Evie shiver in the warmth of Mal’s embrace.

And Evie realizes: Her mother is stuck behind a barrier. Evie no longer has to hide behind a mask of make-up. In Auradon, there are kings and etiquette and memories of mothers. But there are also books. And knowledge. And freedom to pursue dreams. 

And there is always Mal. There is always Evie. There is always Mal-and-Evie.

There is always each other.

Time ticks by. December arrives their senior year of high school, and the world transforms. The skies crystal into colors of deepest blue. Emerald forests ember white with snow. The school’s crystal blue lake frosts over with ice.

At every chance, Evie races outside to the rink, where she transforms, too. Transforms from frantic senior into a girl who loves to spin on skates. Transforms from early admittee to one of Auradon’s best universities into a girl who loves to glide on ice. Transforms from a hopeful college student terrified she’s going to fail her final semester and lose her full scholarship into a girl who flies across the rink, arms outstretched like wings.

Sometimes, Mal joins her. But Mal has never been graceful. And so Evie takes her best friend’s hand and helps her skip across the ice … until Mal slips and falls, bringing Evie down with her. 

They lie together on the reflective cold, hand-in-hand, gazing up at the December sky. 

Mal rests her cheek on Evie’s shoulder. “So you’re really going to Ivy University?”

“Looks like it.” Evie squeezes Mal’s hand. “Why?”

Mal curls her lips into the corner of Evie’s shoulder. “I’m going to miss you, that’s all.”

“You know, Ivy has the best art program in Auradon. You should come with me.” Evie’s voice has lowered into husk. “We can do college together, M.”

Mal scoffs and nudges Evie’s jaw with her forehead. “Like I could get into Ivy with my grades.”

But Evie knows something Mal does not: Evie has been sending colleges photographs of Mal’s art, the pieces Evie kept safe in cellophane. Because Mal does not believe in herself enough to apply to college … but Evie watches her best friend lower her eyes whenever another student receives an early admission. She watches Mal excuse herself from groups whenever the conversation turns to college. And she watches Mal flip through the glossy college brochures when she thinks no one else is looking, always pausing on the art programs.

Mal is an artist.

Mal will always be an artist.

And Auradon offers some of the best art programs in the world.

So Evie sends off Mal’s photos. Because Mal may not believe in herself. But Evie has always believed in Mal, just as Mal has always believed in Evie.

The problem is, Mal never receives any letters from the colleges. And Evie begins to believe that even in this fairytale world, the idea that a girl could be accepted to college without actually filling out an application might be a dream too impossible to come true.

So she writes to her advisor at Ivy. She writes to him more than once. In her final letter, she proclaims, “If Ivy is too dense to recognize good art, then maybe I should give up my scholarship and not come at all.” 

And then she spends the night hyperventilating into her pillow, until Mal curls up in her arms and they drift together into sleep. 

But she does not tell her dragon-hearted girl what she has done. Because she does not want to admit to Mal that her dream of college may not come true.

Luckily, Evie does not lose her scholarship or her early acceptance. But Mal does not hear from any schools.

As the days pass and more students receive early acceptances, as Mal continues to paint in jagged strokes of wistfulness and pain, Evie takes another step: She approaches Mal’s king. “Help her,” she pleads, twisting her hands. “She deserves so much more. She deserves to paint with hope, not heartbreak.”

A light softens across Ben’s face. “I can’t force a college to accept her, Evie. But I’ll see what I can do. I promise.”

And he keeps his promise, just as he’s kept his promise in the past. Like when Evie asked him a year before to enroll more Isle students. And among the Isle kids who crossed the bridge to Auradon was little Dizzy Tremaine, who relinquished her gigantic scissors to come skipping down the halls, her pigtails flying and her mouth generally sticky with peppermint ice cream, always stopping when she saw Evie and Mal to give them peppermint-coated kisses.

And when some of the Isle parents refuse to part with their children, Ben orders that schools be built on the Isle. Schools where Dragon Hall’s classes in scheming turn into logic and speech; and where Dragon Hall’s classes in vanity turn into fashion and fabrics. 

The barrier is brought down around these schools. Kids step from sludge-grey streets into streets dusted white with snow. And while their parents are kept back by the guard, the kids have their first taste of freedom. _(And Ben begins to talk about pardoning some of the parents, too; the ones he believes have served their time.)_

Word leaks that Isle children who choose to attend these schools will be provided the opportunity to attend Auradon universities when they graduate, and some of the Isle kids at Auradon Prep begin talking about going back to the Isle as teachers. _(“Because we know what it’s like,” Mal says, staring outside their dorm window with a gleam in her eyes. “And we should give back, E.”)_

In fact, when Mal hears of these schools, something changes. She becomes the six-year-old gazing through the barren branches of a Christmas tree. A girl who longs to be kind to other children. A girl whose masterpieces are no longer crafted in heartbreak-crimson and soulless-black, but in colors that mix and mold and create new life. Because Mal knows: children on the Isle are often treated cruelly, but agony can be transformed into new shades of hope.

Hope Mal paints onto the walls of the new schools when Ben keeps his promise to Evie: he helps pull Mal from her stupor by commissioning her to paint the buildings with murals.

During the first four weeks of December, Mal splashes the schools with color, stroking soft angles of hope and happiness. 

In one design, she paints four children – two girls and two boys – watching from the roofs as the ships sail into a glittering blue harbor. 

In another, she paints a brown-eyed, blue-haired girl reading a book about magnets. And a little girl with purple hair who watches over her.

In a third, she paints a series of colorful books that act as doors, leading to new pathways of knowledge. _(“Because that’s what it’s always been like for you, E. Whenever you learn something new, you find a new pathway. I want that for them, too.”)_

And this girl, this Mal-of-the-Isle who paints happiness and hope, who dreams about new pathways for children, is so transformed from the jacketless, freezing fairy who stole candy from kids, that Evie finds herself transfixed, always watching. 

Watching the gleam dance in her best friend’s eyes. 

Watching the curve of her lips, which lift more and more into smiles, and less and less into frowns. 

Watching her smile at a little red-headed girl who hangs behind the barrier, whose mother – a henchman of lesser repute – won’t allow her to attend a school other than those focused on scheming. A little girl clothed in a threadbare dress, whose knees are crimson from the cold.

A little girl who Mal bundles in the jacket given to the king’s lady by the Auradon seamstress, and who Mal leads inside the school after having a blazing green-eyed “discussion” with the girl’s cowering mother. A rather loud discussion that takes place while Evie stands back with an eye-roll and a grin, at last finding her Mal in this brazen dragon-hearted girl who would fight for a child who dares to dream of learning.

And when the girl’s new kindergarten teacher invites Ben to read for the class, and Evie and Mal sit together cross-legged on the rug, Mal pulls the child onto her lap. And rests her cheek on Evie’s shoulder, whispering, “Maybe love isn’t weakness after all.”

 _No._ Evie curls her arm around Mal’s shoulders. _Love isn’t weakness, M. It’s power._

Because that’s what Mal has always given the people around her. That’s what she’s always given Evie: the gift of power, the gift of strength.

A gift others recognize, too. 

The boys, Jay and Carlos, who were content to let Mal lead them on the Isle; and who only agree on a college after talking to Mal _(settling on Kingsport, which is strong in Tourney for Jay and veterinary science for Carlos, but Evie is disheartened to learn, is several hours by car from Ivy)_. 

And Ben, who after commissioning Mal to mural the schools, begins pulling her away at odd intervals, touching her hands and her shoulder, whispering with her in corners, their voices low and conspiratorial, never loud enough for Evie to hear, but always accompanied by Mal’s smiles and laughter as she gazes at her king like he’s offering her a precious gift.

And Evie’s heart cracks. Cracks in a way fabric and paint cannot. Because she knows Ben won’t be Mal’s ex for much longer.

So on Christmas Eve, when they gather in Auradon Prep’s cafeteria for punch and Christmas cookies; when Jay and Carlos spike the punch without telling anyone; when Jane and Lonnie drink too much rum and make out in the corner behind the silver-lighted Christmas tree; when Carlos kisses Jay beneath the mistletoe, and Jay flushes deep magenta; when Ben and Mal step arm-in-arm to a side of the room decorated with holly, Mal’s gaze dipped beneath her lashes while she whispers secrets to her king; Evie drops her half-eaten Christmas cookie onto the table and rushes from the room, darting past Mal and Ben, ignoring Mal’s cries of “Evie! Where are you going?” 

Evie finds solace on the ice.

She glides on skates through the silver spill of moonlight, lifting her arms to spin. Spin in a world spelled with magic, a world emerald with pine trees and white with the cover of snow. A world where the stars shine bright within the moonlit sky, and the sky edges to the ground in a purple-blue-and-pink glow.

Until the world changes again.

And becomes a world where a certain fairy steps onto the ice and curses, crashing into Evie in a tangle of flailing arms and slipping skates. “The ice hates me, E. It’s got a vendetta, I’m telling you.”

And laughter bounces from Evie’s lips. Laughter that is buoyant and light. Because if Mal is here on the ice, if she is curled into Evie’s arms, if she is clinging to Evie’s shoulders as Evie crouches into her skates, keeping them both upright, then she is not with Ben. 

And so Evie laughs. A laugh crafted from warmth and everything light.

“Oh, sure.” Mal’s words are a breath of frost tickling Evie’s throat. “Laugh at my misery.”

“I’m not laughing at your misery, M.” Evie pulls back so she can gaze into her best friend’s eyes. “I’m laughing because I’m happy you’re here. Why are you here?”

Something shines on the surface of Mal’s eyes. Something deep and vulnerable and real. She slips her hand into her jacket pocket, and pulls out a piece of paper.

And Evie’s pulse skips into her throat.

Because the jacket Mal reaches into is her Evie-jacket.

And the paper Mal holds is scripted on letterhead from Ivy University.

Mal waves the letter. “They offered me a partial scholarship, E. And Ben – he’s promised me mural commissions so I can make up the rest. It’s why we’ve been talking. Why you saw us tonight, before…” Mal swallows. Shakes her head. Starts again. “You did this, didn’t you?” Her voice cracks and her eyes liquify, shimmering in the light of the stars.

And yes, Evie sent Mal’s work to Ivy. And yes, she’s sent several messages to her advisor.

But no. She didn’t do this. Mal did it all on her own when she crafted those wonderful pieces of art.

Evie smooths her hand against Mal’s face. And tucks a strand of purple fire behind her ear. “You’ve always believed in me, M. So when you couldn’t believe in yourself – I believed enough for us both.” She cradles Mal’s cheek. “Because you’re worth it.”

Mal nuzzles Evie’s hand. “You’ve given me so much. You’ve given me everything.” Lifting her head, she slides something green from her Evie-jacket. A heart crafted from fabric. “A heart of fabric. A heart of paint.” She tips her head toward the heart on the back of her jacket. “And the only thing I have to offer…” She bends to touch the bank of snow, arranging something in her half-gloved hand. When she stands, she’s holding a heart crafted from pure white ice. “My mom taught me to be cold, E. I’m afraid all I have to offer is a heart of snow.”

“Oh, Mal.” Evie holds her hands around Mal’s, cupping their newest heart. “Snow is only snow until it melts. Let’s warm it together.”

Mal stares down at their hands, where the snow is dripping through their fingers. When she glances back up at Evie, her eyes shimmer with a sheen of tears. “Evie.” Her name is a trembling breath. “I’m so in love with you.”

A soul-deep shiver courses through Evie's body. “I have loved you, Mal,” she says, squeezing Mal’s hands, “ever since I was six-years-old, staring through the branches of a Christmas tree.”

Their gazes interlace, a lifetime of truths infused within their stares. And Evie’s heart begins to glide, so she tugs on Mal’s hands, gliding with her best friend backward across the ice.

And she can’t help it. She can’t help the way her gaze slips to Mal’s lips. Or how badly she craves a taste. “I’m going to kiss you now,” she says, moistening her mouth with the tip of her tongue. “I’m going to move slowly, and if you want me to stop, all you have to do is say –”

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Evie laughs a laugh like chimes. And then she kisses Mal, a caress of lips that lingers and deepens. She kisses Mal while taking her on a journey across the ice. 

And this time, they do not fall. 

They soar.


	4. The Fourth Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls finish their senior year of high school and begin college, celebrating a magical Christmas at the age of nineteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little racier than the others. But as the scenes contain nothing that wouldn't be found on the shelves of the "young adult section" at the bookstore, I've chosen to keep the rating "Teen."

During the spring of their senior year in high school, Mal transforms both Isle and Auradon with her art.

She paints the schools with murals of children reading books and raising hands in pursuit of knowledge. 

She paints the libraries with murals of red flowers growing where no life has ever grown. 

And she paints community centers with murals of two boys and two girls, stepping wide-eyed into a world of technicolored wonder. 

Her designs come to life in hopeful wisps of multi-colored paint, but they are always accented in purples and blues. And they always show an image of two girls holding hands. “That’s what I see now,” she whispers, cuddling Evie close as they lay together in bed. “You and me. It’s in everything I design.”

Evie’s answer catches in her throat. So she kisses Mal instead.

Evie transforms Auradon with her fashions. She experiments with magnets, using them to attach layers of clothes so that a dress becomes a skirt, and jeans become shorts, and shirts convert into a number of styles. Soon, her fashions are on display in several Auradonian store-front windows.

And then she transforms the Isle, too. She dips into the kingdom coffers, using the money to clothe Isle children in warm leather coats. 

She and Mal present the jackets at the Isle schools, grinning at the children’s cries of delight. Mal’s little red-headed friend throws herself first into Evie’s arms and then into Mal’s, laughter spilling from her lips. And Evie dabs her eyes when Mal cuddles the child, looking like she’s cradling a ragdoll.

Evie’s mother steps to the edge of the barrier on one of their visits, scrutinizing Evie from beneath triangular eyebrows set into a face carved from glass. She glares at Evie. And at Mal.

Evie’s heart fissures like ice, but she raises her chin. And takes Mal’s hand. “Come on, M. It’s time to get ready for graduation.”

“That’s my girl.” Mal sweeps Evie’s cheek with a kiss. “We definitely wouldn’t want the valedictorian to be late.”

Mal’s touch warms Evie from head to foot, and they step hand-in-hand away from Evie’s mother. Saying good-bye to Evie’s past.

At graduation, they sit together with their friends – Jay, Carlos, Lonnie and Jane; Ben sits in the front. They sweat in velvet black robes, and pass a flask hidden beneath their flowing sleeves. When Evie is called to the stage to give her valedictory address, she chokes on a mouthful of rum. Shoving the flask into Mal’s hand, she jumps to her feet and trips over the hem of her robe.

“That’s it,” Mal stage-whispers, hiding her laughter behind her sleeve. “You’re cut off.”

Evie answers her with a glare and, when she’s done collecting her diploma, moving her tassel to the side and declaring to her fellow graduates that: “We all have a voice. And our voice matters. Don’t ever let anyone silence you or take away your dreams,” she corners Mal backstage and silences her with a kiss that leaves Mal pinned against the wall, gripping fistfuls of Evie’s robes. “Am I still cut off, M?” she growls in a husk.

“Keep kissing me like that,” Mal says, pulling her closer, “and you can have all the rum you like.”

“Mmm.” Evie nips at Mal’s throat. “I think I’d like something else instead.”

Mal moans and threads her fingers through Evie’s hair. Tugging Evie’s face from her throat, she crushes their lips together.

And Jay shouts, “Get a room!” and Jane calls out, “Party in our dorms! Come on, everyone!”

And Evie abandons her advances, realizing she and Mal almost went farther than they’ve ever gone – in plain view of all their classmates, who have stopped unfurling diplomas and tossing graduation caps to stare open-mouthed at the two girls curled together in the corner. _(“Now that’s what I call PDA,” Chad whispers.)_

“C’mon.” Evie tugs on her crimson-cheeked girlfriend’s hand. “Can’t miss a party.” And she pulls them both from the stage and into the dorms, where…

Jay and Carlos unmask a supply of food and alcohol...

…and Dude speaks to them all with waggling ears, lecturing them on the proprieties of underage drinking (a lecture which is promptly ignored as they clank bottles and cheer) …

…and they slide open the windows, hanging blue-and-gold Auradon Prep banners from their sills, while belting out the school song _(“We are proud and mighty / We learn from the best / And while we might be flighty / We pass every test”)_ ...

…and Lonnie asks anyone who will listen whether she made the right choice, going onto military academy, or if she really should have gone with Jane to college in the north…

…and Jane drinks too much for a small fairy who almost never drinks at all, and somehow ends up on the roof, singing “I’m a little teapot” …

…and Chad strips to his skimpies and streaks through the dorms until Fairy Godmother makes him put his clothes back on and the party is nearly busted up…

…and Evie sneaks more kisses from Mal, pulling her into corners and almost into a closet – until they discover a shirtless Jay and a swollen-lipped Carlos occupying the same space, and they all stare at each other, wordless and wide-eyed…

…and then they catch little Dizzy recording their antics from beneath Evie’s bed, her face flushed from giggles, her mouth sticky from chocolate ice cream…

…and Evie guides Dizzy to her own room, wiping away her ice-cream mustache and tucking her into her sheets…

…and Mal erases the girl’s recordings, then sits at the foot of her bed, smiling softly while Evie tells her a bedtime story _(“Once upon a time, there were two little girls who met each other standing at opposite sides of a Christmas tree…”)_ …

…and they all collapse onto floors and into beds, exhausted, Mal curled into Evie’s arms, their celebrations keeping them asleep until late the next morning.

A couple weeks later, they say their good-byes. 

Lonnie goes off to military academy, pulling Jane behind a shed for a special farewell that leaves them both flushed. 

And Jane goes off to study a course in teaching. 

Ben takes up residence in his castle, planning to study college by correspondence. 

And Chad slinks away home, intending to study at a local community college with his girlfriend, Audrey, until he can bring up his grades.

Evie and Mal wrap a trembling, teary-eyed Dizzy in hugs, promising to visit as soon as they can. And then they pile together with Jay, Carlos and Dude into Mal’s new midnight-purple car, purchased with a small portion of Mal’s mural-commission money, and speed off from Auradon Prep for a summer of amber-skies-and-twisting-roads-and-freedom before they separate three-by-two for college.

_A week before they depart, Mal leaves her mother-the-lizard with Fairy Godmother. Because even after two years as a reptile, the dragon lady has failed to learn how to love her daughter._

_Evie tucks Mal into the curve of her arms, whispering promises about forever. But they don’t talk about her mother. That kind of talking is attached to a soul-deep pain that hurts too much._

For weeks, the VKs drive through the wonders of Auradon and beyond, Mal’s hand tucked in Evie’s, while Jay and Carlos pretend not to snuggle in the backseat, but always end up tangled together when the sun goes down and the stars sprinkle the evening sky. 

During the days, the sun shines golden bright through Mal’s windshield and the roads twist on-and-on in a forever-way through Dorothy’s towering cornfields and across Merida’s emerald lands, through Tinkerbell’s flowery alcoves and the lost mermaid’s splashing seas. Mal blasts the radio, and Dude howls, and the boys tap their hands against their knees, creating the beat of a drum, while Evie leans her head against Mal’s, singing, “Forever this way, we’ll stay and stay and stay; you and me, forever we’ll be and be and be.”

At night, when the roads grow dark and the moonlight proves too pale, they pull to the side of the road and sleep. Jay and Carlos pitch a tent in the cornfields and the emerald lands, in the flowery alcoves and beside the seas. And Mal and Evie curl up together in the backseat of Mal’s car. Evie rests her head against Mal’s chest, lightening coursing through her body as she listens to the forever beat of her girlfriend’s thundering heart.

Sometimes, they stop the car to explore.

They tunnel through a rabbit hole into the turquoise skies of Wonderland, where they follow the shadow of a Cheshire smile through a field of red-yellow-and-white mushrooms, across the path of a caterpillar who offers them all four a toke of his smoking pipe (which they politely refuse), to the edge of a crimson sea, where they all pile together into multi-colored balloons and float through the turquoise clouds, and, after stepping out of their balloons, past a tea party of talking mice _(“None today, thank you,” Evie calls, linking her arm with Mal’s and pulling her from an offering of herbal tea that smells less like tea and more like herbs)_. 

After Wonderland, they cruise together to Pleasure Island, where Carlos stuffs his cheeks with cotton candy and Dude chases pigeons into the smoky skies and Jay leads Carlos into the shadows of a haunted house, where they hide for ages. And Mal and Evie stop every few feet to kiss before climbing aboard a merry-go-round, where Evie rides a brown horse and Mal a black. They hold hands and gaze into each other’s eyes while the horses rise and dip, carrying them in a circle that always leads Mal and Evie one-back-to-the-other.

As the summer fades and the end of September dawns with its clear blue skies and its scattering of multi-colored leaves, Mal stops her car outside Jay and Carlos’ college. 

Cars honk their horns and kids shout hellos and suitcases clatter along the sidewalks, but the four VKs ignore it all to stare one-at-the-other. 

Mal sighs. “Come on, you guys. I suck at good-byes. Let’s get this over with.” She stretches out her hand, palm-down. “Like we used to.”

As one, Evie and the boys meet Mal’s hand with their own, and Dude puts in his paw.

“We’re rotten.” Mal trembles on the words.

“To the core,” Evie whispers with the others.

“Forever.” Mal grimaces and closes her eyes.

“Always.” Evie knocks her head against Mal’s, breathing kisses against her girlfriend’s cheek.

And the boys slip from the car without another word, taking their suitcases from the trunk and walking away. 

Because it’s easier that way. To separate without a word.

It leaves so many words left to say when next you meet again.

Mal and Evie drive the next several hours in a silence broken only by the honks of cars and the murmur of the radio. 

When the sun sets and the world transforms into pink clouds and cobalt skies, Mal slows her car and swerves onto a beach’s sandy shores.

She cuts the engine, and the sound of surf fills the space. That, and Mal’s fingers, drumming against the steering wheel. But the drumming stops. And Mal slips her keys from the ignition and opens the door, stepping outside. 

Evie cranes her neck to watch her girlfriend walk around the car, shoulders bent. A seagull cries somewhere in the distance. And Mal opens Evie’s door, extending her hand. “Walk with me, E?” 

Evie squeezes Mal’s fingers. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, M? I’ll go with you anywhere.”

Mal answers with a smile that spasms and fades. She breaks away from Evie’s soul-deep gaze to stare at her toes, which are pushing into the sand.

Evie’s heart twists. “Okay.” She slides her finger beneath Mal’s chin, forcing the love of her life to meet her eyes. “What’s going on?”

Mal’s gaze deepens and turns vulnerable. “I didn’t leave my mom with Fairy Godmother.”

Evie shakes her head. “But you said –”

“She escaped.” Mal drops Evie’s hand. And turns to stare out at the crashing surf. “A week before we left. And I never found her. She never came back.”

“Oh, Mal.” Evie pulls Mal against her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

Mal presses her forehead into Evie’s. “Why didn’t she ever love me, E?”

“I don’t know.” The words are a whisper, stuck in Evie’s throat. “Maybe she didn’t know how.”

Mal stiffens, goes rigid, and then starts shaking from head to foot. She trembles as if she’s cradling so much emotion, it’s threatening to break her apart. “Does everyone leave?”

“I never will.” Evie presses so close to Mal that her own body starts trembling, as if it can somehow siphon away Mal’s heartbreak. “You’re stuck with me,” Evie breathes, tangling a hand through Mal’s purple-fire hair. “I love you so much. My brave, green-eyed, dragon-hearted Mal.”

And she does. She loves this girl, every version of her, including this Mal who has learned to unmask her emotions, who has learned that love is not weakness but strength. This girl is Evie’s whole world. Her future, wrapped in a purple-haired fairy with a penchant for mischief and the biggest heart Evie has ever known. _And if her mother ever breaks her heart again, there won’t be a need for a terrarium. We’ll purchase a lizard-sized casket._

“I love you,” Mal sobs the words into Evie’s ear. “You’re my everything.”

“And you’re mine.” 

Evie holds Mal while she breaks, holds her even after, holds her while she sniffles and hiccups and knits herself back together again. 

And then she takes Mal’s hand. “One of the best things about the beach?” She leads Mal to the place where ocean meets sand. “It’s all about new beginnings. It’s the first year of college, M. Let’s walk through the surf and create our new start.”

Mal’s eyes blaze with dragon-hearted love. Hand-in-hand with Evie, she walks through the surf, which washes over their feet as they step together into their future.

Hours later, they arrive at their dorm, overlooking a greenbelt lined with trees, their new college a brick building in the distance.

On that first night, they mingle with their hall-mates, swapping drinks and high school stories _(“Did you really date King Ben?” one girl asks Mal – a question-and-answer session that reaches an abrupt end when Evie sweeps Mal into a toe-curling kiss, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that Mal is definitely_ not _with King Ben.)_

After an hour, they’ve made new friends, and together with their mischief buddies, they commit acts that first night which lead to the creation of new dorm rules (things like “no bowling in the halls;” “no catching mice in the kitchens and racing them through the dorms;” and “no squirting the smokers with water pistols from the third-story windows”). 

Finally, they rush back to their room, where they push their beds together, creating a double, and tumble together onto their sheets, giggling and kissing and tasting skin, their names falling from each other’s lips. They fall asleep in a tangle of limbs, still fully clothed and holding hands.

The next weeks blur together. Evie sits at the front of her science classes, answering questions, taking notes, and propelling herself to the front of her class. She learns about magnets and fire and why atoms do what they do, and then she takes that knowledge and applies it to her fashion classes, where she plans to create new kinds of fabric. She doesn’t know what kinds of fabric yet, but she knows it will be a miracle of science. And that her designs will sell.

She considers joining a sorority. Even attends a rush party. A girl with a too-shrill giggle welcomes her to the fray, and in the next minutes, explains that Evie will be expected to spend a week in hair rollers and avocado cream, serenading the fraternity boys whenever they snap their fingers and motion her to her knees.

Evie flushes so deep, she feels the heat in her glare. And even though she presses her lips together, she can’t stop a certain swear word from escaping. A swear word that is quickly followed by her bursts of quivering laughter. “Tell you what,” she says, grabbing the girl’s shoulder to steady herself, “I won’t fall to my knees for the frat boys. But if you ask my girlfriend to snap her fingers, I might serenade her. Just not in avocado cream.”

She isn’t welcomed to rush that sorority, and she chooses not to try for another.

But Mal spends the next week leaving hair rollers and avocado cream on Evie’s pillow, snapping her fingers whenever she catches Evie’s eye. 

Finally, Evie pounces on her girlfriend, pushing her onto their bed. She tangles her hands with Mal’s, nipping at her lips. “Snap your fingers again, Miss M, and I’ll refuse to kiss you until finals.”

Mal responds by capturing Evie’s mouth in a kiss that goes so deep, lips suckling lips and tongues tasting tongues, that Evie’s toes curl and a loud moan bursts from her throat. “Like you could refuse me.” Mal’s voice dances with mischief.

Evie closes her eyes in defeat. “You win,” she whispers.

Triumphant, Mal kisses her again. 

But after that, she stops leaving hair rollers and avocado cream on Evie’s pillow.

At night, Evie falls together with Mal into their sheets, kissing and tasting and touching skin, until they slip into sleep, holding hands. 

In the mornings, when the sun shines its first golden rays through their double-paned windows, they snuggle into each other’s arms and share secrets about the future.

“Do you ever think about it, M?” Evie’s voice is a whisper quieter than the chirp of the morning sparrows. “Our future?”

“Sure.” Mal snuggles into Evie’s chest. “I mean, I think about being with you. I know you’re a huge part of my future.”

Evie grins so wide, her cheeks ache. “Me, too.” She smooths her fingers across Mal’s shoulder, her next words catching in her throat. But she wants to speak them, so she forces them out. “And I sometimes think about a family. You know. You and me, and…” She cannot speak the rest, and the room falls into silence.

Mal smooths a kiss onto Evie’s collarbone. “I’d like that.” Her voice is a murmur of sound. “I’d like a family.”

There’s an undercurrent in her tone. An undercurrent Evie fails to place, because she’s too busy grinning wider, a happy hum vibrating from her throat. “What else would you like, Miss Mal?”

Mal squeezes her hand around Evie’s, then loosens it, then squeezes it again. A living pulse. “Well,” she says, “I’m thinking about teaching. Art, of course. Maybe at one of the new Isle schools. I can’t stop thinking about that little girl. The one with the red hair.”

“You’d be great.” Evie lifts Mal’s hand to her lips, brushing her knuckles with a kiss. “You always encouraged me to learn. In fact, I might not even be here if it weren’t for you.”

“Yes, you would. You’d make it anywhere. Even without me.” Her words are punctuated with a question-mark, as if Mal is wondering if they are true.

Evie kisses Mal’s hand again. “Let’s not put that theory to the test, okay?”

But Mal does put that theory to the test. Because she starts slipping away.

It begins one day in early November, when the skies have turned navy and the leaves scatter different colors across the ground. A storm brews in the distance, the world rumbling with thunder. Evie hurries back from classes, eager to miss the rain, to find Mal searching the Internet about lizards.

Mal snaps the laptop shut, her eyes tinged red. She does not meet Evie’s gaze, and hurries away soon after with excuses about an art club meeting.

Apparently, the art club meets a lot. Because Mal is always rushing off to meetings, or sneaking away to volunteer at the schools with her art club cronies. She returns late at night, when Evie is asleep. Sometimes, Mal sleeps on the ground _(“Just didn’t want to wake you, E.”)_ Sometimes, Evie wakes up when the world is black and Mal is a silhouette beside the windows, gazing out onto the college landscape or else staring at Evie, a thousand unasked questions blazing through her eyes.

And Evie will join her at the window, pulling Mal into her arms. “What are you thinking about, M?”

“Nothing,” Mal will murmur. Or: “The future,” Mal will say. Once, Evie swears she hears Mal whisper, “Family,” but when she asks, Mal tells her she didn’t say a thing.

There are nights like those, when Evie holds Mal tight within her arms, desperate to keep her from slipping away.

And then there are nights like these:

Evie curls up in her sheets, snuggling into a ball, blocking the chill of winter from seeping into her skin. Outside the window, the year’s first snow flutters in dots of white, coloring the onyx sky.

And then her dorm room door creeps open. And Mal tiptoes inside, a spark of mischief dancing through her eyes. “E, get up.” She whispers as if she’s keeping the world’s best secret. “Put on your jacket and boots. We’re going out.”

“Where?” Evie rubs the sleep from her eyes.

The secrets dance into Mal’s smile. “You’ll see.”

Once Evie is bundled in a sapphire parka and sapphire mittens and sapphire boots, Mal takes her by the hand and tugs her from the room, out into the white-and-black night. There, they discover a crowd of students whooping and laughing and sliding on cafeteria trays down a snowy hill.

“You wanna?” Mal tilts her head at Evie.

Evie watches the sledders jostle down the hill, some tipping over face-first into the snow, others flying up into the air and crashing back down again.

Her heart thunders and her eyes go wide. But she swallows her fear and nods. “Definitely.” Because she’s always loved adventure. And because she’s an Isle girl who learned long ago that fear is sometimes the best kind of fun.

So she and Mal make the trek to the top of the hill, where they each claim themselves a tray. Sitting on the small expanse, its surface hard beneath their bottoms, they curve their knees to their chests. And take each other’s hands.

“Ready?” Mal asks, with a squeeze to Evie’s fingers.

Evie gazes down down down to the place they’re meant to slide. “As I’ll ever be.”

“Then let’s do this.” Mal pushes off from the ground, pulling Evie along with her.

Evie’s stomach slides into her throat. And as they pick up speed, and the hill becomes a blur of white, and Mal’s hand tightens around her own, her stomach drops to her feet. 

But she can’t help the cries of delight that escape from her lips.

Because in this moment, hand-in-hand with Mal, the first snowfall kissing her cheeks, she feels like she can fly. And so she stretches out her arms, both the free one and the one linked with Mal’s, and she cries out as though she is crying out for freedom.

There are nights like that. 

But those nights are rare. 

Because Mal continues to slip away. And they spend most nights in a world of safe-unsafe. Kind of like this:

Evie and Mal pack into Mal’s car, safe in the knowledge that it is the end of term, their grades are good, and they are on their way to meet the boys for Christmas. But unsafe in everything else.

Unsafe in the way Mal hasn’t slept in their bed for weeks, always finding excuses to curl into blankets on the floor. _“I came in late and didn’t want to wake you, E…I fell asleep pulling an all-nighter, and didn’t make it into bed…I was tossing and turning, and didn’t want to crush you in my dreams…”_

Unsafe in the way Mal hasn’t spoken to Evie in just as long. Not the way she used to, with secrets spilling from her lips and the world reflected in her eyes. 

Mal speaks in riddles now. Riddles like these: _“Oh, you know. Just thinking about things.”_ But she never tells Evie what things she’s thinking about. _“I really don’t want to talk about it, E.”_ But she never tells Evie what it is that she doesn’t want to talk about. _“I’m fine. Really. Don’t worry about it.”_ But Evie always worries because she can tell from the crease between Mal’s eyebrows and the way she fails to meet Evie’s gaze that she isn’t fine, not fine at all.

Unsafe in the way Mal drives them from college, clutching the steering wheel with both hands _(when one hand always used to clutch Evie’s)_ , never once talking or breaking eye contact with the road, never once looking at Evie. Almost as if she’s chosen to pretend as though Evie isn’t in the car at all.

And Evie’s heart begins to fissure. 

Because she knows: Signs like this are never good. 

Mal has been pulling away for weeks, and Evie has tried everything to reach her. Evie turns to stare out the passenger window, bunching her seatbelt in her fist. _Maybe the truth is, Mal just doesn’t want to be reached._

Evie’s eyes ache. She squeezes her eyelids between her fingertips, containing the threat of tears. And occupies her thoughts by staring at the road twisting and turning through banks of white, at the towering pines coated with snow, at the fog that smokes up her window.

But as the snow fall thickens, as the winds howl, as the world turns angry with a winter storm, Evie’s muscles clench and she finds herself drifting back into memories of Mal, of Evie-and-Mal, of the girls who stood together through any storm. Mal turns up the heat, and Evie slips out of her jacket, sliding it to the floor, and remembers: dances-in-hallways and hearts-made-from-snow and kisses-on-ice-skates.

Her eyes begin to ache again, and her throat thickens with emotion. She glances at Mal, who has slowed the car to a crawl. “I miss you,” she whispers. And her words are so quiet, they are lost in the storm.

But Mal glances at her anyway. And there are a million battles reflected in her eyes. “I miss you, too.”

The ache behind Evie’s eyes turns into a sting, which disappears when Evie’s gaze liquifies. “Talk to me, M. The way you used to. Please don’t shut me out anymore.”

Mal sighs. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

But that’s not good enough. Not after everything they’ve been through. Not after every touch, every kiss, every conversation they’ve missed over the last two months.

So Evie reaches over to Mal’s steering wheel. And cups her girlfriend’s hand. “Why don’t you start by telling me why you won’t sleep in our bed? And then you can tell me whether you still want to be in this relationship.”

Mal whips a glance at Evie that has her skipping the tires of her car over an embankment of snow. “Of course I still want to be with you, Evie.” She yanks her steering wheel, pulling the car back onto the road. “What would ever make you think I don’t want that?”

Evie’s chest twists. “You haven’t slept with me in six weeks. The last time we kissed was three weeks ago on Thursday. I know because I wrote it into my calendar. And you’ve stopped holding my hand or even talking to me. Should I go on, or is that enough?” 

Mal shakes her head, her eyes wider than Evie’s ever seen them. “Come here.” 

She takes a hand from the steering wheel and cups Evie’s chin, pulling her into a kiss that is quick and chaste, but so soft and warm that Evie feels it in her toes.

“I love you, Evie.” Mal returns her gaze to the road, where the storm chops down in ice, slicking up the pavement. She slows the car farther, creeping forward into a crawl. “I have always loved you, even when I was pretending that love is weakness. You’re my everything, remember?”

Evie licks her lips, savoring Mal’s kiss. “Then talk to me. If you love me, if you want to be with me, then I need you to let me in. Please.”

Mal drums her fingers against the steering wheel, creating a steady beat that stretches across two roads and three turns. “I’m afraid.” Her voice falls beneath the howl of wind. “I’m scared, Evie.”

“Of me?” Evie’s voice squeaks.

Mal grips the steering wheel tighter. “A while ago, you said you wanted a family. And I don’t know if I can give you that.” She jerks a glance at Evie, forgetting to look at the road. “E, my mom was awful. And I know yours was, too, but you’ve always been good with kids. I have no idea how to be a mother. What if I screw up our future kids?”

Evie thaws from head to foot. She’s just about to open her mouth, to remind Mal about little red-headed girls who run to her every time she visits the Isle, and slightly older girls who give her peppermint-coated kisses in the hallways, about the way Mal has always cared about and championed everyone she loves. She’s just about to tell her there’s no way she’ll be anything but an amazing mother.

When a snow-white deer prances into the path of their headlights. And stops, gazing at them through steady brown eyes.

“Mal, watch out!” Evie grabs the steering wheel, jerking the car away from the deer.

But the road is slick with ice. And the car doesn’t just jerk; it swerves. Swerves this way and that, diving into a fishtail spin. 

Evie cries out and Mal gasps, knocking the gears into reverse.

But this is the exact wrong move. 

Because the out-of-control car plummets backward off the road. And skids onto a frozen lake, landing in a bed of ice.

The ice begins to crack.

In the space of a shattered heartbeat, they’ve driven themselves onto thin ice, and are seconds away from a frozen death.

Mal twists the key, cutting off the ignition. And claims Evie’s gaze with haunted eyes. “On the count of three, I want you to open your door and run back to the road. I’ll be right behind you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Evie whispers, curling her hand around the door handle.

“One,” Mal says, opening her door.

“Two,” Evie says, opening her door.

“Three.” They both jump from the car and onto the ice, where they slip and slide and curse until they are reunited with the road.

Evie is trembling. Shaking from head-to-foot. Adrenaline courses through her body, and her stomach curls as if she’s about to be sick.

“Come here,” Mal says for the second time that night, gathering Evie in her arms. “Just come here and let me hold you.”

And so Evie curls up into Mal’s arms, clutching her tight as they quiver and shake, as the wind screams and the snow churns around them both. 

And then Evie’s teeth begin to chatter. And a biting cold pierces her skin, sinking so deep, Evie goes numb. Heartbeats later, and the numbness transforms into warmth. A warmth so cozy, Evie’s eyes droop. “I’m sleepy,” she murmurs into Mal’s shoulder.

Mal stiffens. Pulling from their hug, she conducts a lightning-speed scan of Evie’s clothes. “Evie, where is your jacket?”

Evie yawns. “On the floor of the car.” And then, as her mind numbs along with her skin, she is left with a single, splintering thought: “Oh. I guess I should have grabbed it, huh?”

It’s really the only thing she can say. Because it’s too late. The ice continues to crack. The car slips down toward the frozen lake. And there’s no way Evie can grab her jacket now. Just as there’s no way Mal can grab their phones, which they’ve left in the backseat.

The world is angry with a storm. A storm so fierce, it must be a blizzard. The ice obscures Mal’s face until Evie is left in a world all alone, sinking into a sleepy stupor. “I’m so tired, M.”

Mal curses and grabs Evie into her arms. “No sleeping.” She lifts Evie from the road and cradles her against her chest. “You promised me, Evie.” She plunges forward through the storm, stalking down the road. “You swore you would never leave. So don’t you dare go to sleep on me now. Understand?”

Evie cuddles her cheek against Mal’s chest. “I’ll try.” But her body is slowing, her breathing is shallow. And even though a ghost of a thought drifts through her mind _(sleep is never good in blizzards, Evie, so listen to Mal and stay awake)_ , sleep sounds so good. 

“Try hard, E. Try harder than you’ve ever tried at anything before. Because I love you so much. And I’m not going to lose you now.” Mal takes one staggering step after another, her head bowed against the storm. But her steps are slow. And Evie’s heartbeat is slower.

Evie clings to Mal’s purple parka, struggling not to close her eyes. But she is freezing. And her body wants sleep.

Just before her eyes threaten to slip closed, Evie glances up from Mal’s chest. And swears she spots a snow-white deer with steady brown eyes. “L-look, M,” she thinks she says, but she can’t be sure as words are foreign play-things now. “He c-came b-back.”

And Evie isn’t sure, but she thinks Mal goes rigid. 

The deer takes a few prancing steps, and turns around to stare at Mal.

“What the…?” Mal murmurs.

The deer prances forward again. Then turns back to stare.

And the world becomes a world of games, because Mal seems to have decided on some new fun: She’s decided to follow the deer, which steps at Mal-speed down the icy road, stopping every-now-and-then to turn and stare at Mal as if it wants her to follow.

The game continues for what seems like hours, as the world roars with wind and the snow bites into Evie’s skin and Mal staggers forward, Evie curled against her chest.

Evie’s heart beats slow and her breath comes slower, so when the deer turns and prances into a Christmas card, she wonders if maybe she’s dreaming.

Because there’s no way this animal has led them here, to a place where the road curls into a bed-and-breakfast, which glows with yellow lights, beckoning travelers in from the storm.

But Mal seems to think he has.

Because she squeezes Evie and mutters something about buying treats for all the deer of the world. And then she races across the twining road, up to the bed-and-breakfast, where she throws open the door and shouts: “Help! We need help!”

And it is only when Evie registers the clink of dinner plates and the thrum of voices, when a bouncing female voice answers Mal back with, “Oh, you poor dears! Did you get stuck out in the blizzard?” that Evie begins to wonder if the Christmas card is real.

Mal hitches Evie higher in her arms. “Our car skidded onto the ice. My girlfriend is freezing. She needs –”

“A fire and a warm bath.” The woman curls her hand around Mal’s arm and leads them both to a fireplace. “Set her down here, dear. I’ll prepare the bath water. And I’ll get my husband. He’s the village doctor.” The woman scurries away, accompanied by an odd jangling of bells.

With Evie curled to her chest, Mal sinks to the floor before a crackling fire. “Come on, baby.” She strips off Evie’s snow-drenched sweater and massages warmth into her arms. “Warm up for me, okay?”

“So…” Evie’s teeth clatter. “…c-c-cold.”

Mal gasps on a sob. “I know. I’m gonna make you warm.” She rubs frenzied strokes into Evie’s skin. “Just like you’ve always done for me.”

Trembling, Mal pulls off her own soaked parka and Evie’s blizzard-drenched pants, leaving Evie in her underwear. And maybe there are people around. And maybe they are all staring. But it doesn’t matter. Because in this moment, wrapped up in Mal, Evie has never felt safer.

The warmth dances over Evie’s skin, which aches at first, but then grows warmer. And it’s like she’s standing back in the odd-place shop that Christmas thirteen years ago, gazing into Mal’s eyes for the very first time. The first time she ever felt a warmth like firelight dance over her body and creep into her heart.

And the doctor comes and examines her, but Evie knows what he will say before he’s done: “You’re going to be fine. This one,” he says, poking his long white beard at Mal, “got you here just in time.”

And Evie cuddles into Mal, who whispers things about amazing deer and I-love-you and don’t-scare-me-like-that-ever-again, as the doctor stands and joins his wife, who has come to tell them that the bath water’s ready. 

And in that moment when Evie first gazes upon the doctor’s wife, the inn-keeper, she squints and gasps. Because she swears she and Mal have traveled from Auradon straight into Santa’s workshop. 

The inn-keeper looks just like Mrs. Claus. Her hair is fluffed out in white ringlets, bells jangle from her neck, and she’s wearing a red-and-white apron striped like a candy cane. 

And her husband gazes at them from above cheeks reddened like cherries, his long white hair spilling into the long white beard that billows down his extended belly. “I’m going to get my elves on that car,” he says, slipping a phone from his pocket. “Could be we can rescue it from the ice before it sinks.”

“Your elves?” Evie squeaks, sharing a startled glance with Mal.

“Oh, that’s just what he calls the boys, dear.” The inn-keeper waves her hand. “A bit of holiday humor.”

She leads them both upstairs, where she somehow convinces Mal to leave Evie long enough for Mal to take a bath, and for Evie to slip into her own tub. A tub soapy with bubbles and steaming with hot water that seeps into Evie’s skin, warming her until her fingers are no longer rigid and every muscle melts.

From there, Evie slips into a white fleece robe, tied around her middle, and meets a white-fleece-robed Mal in the dining hall for a meal of soul-deep-glances and turkey-legs-sauced-with-apple-jam and feet-rubbed-together-beneath-the-table and cranberry-sauce-made-with-real-cranberries and soulful-smiles-that-seem-to-glow and fresh-bread-baked-with-honey.

And just before Mal and Evie head to their room _(“It’s on us, dears,” says Mrs. Claus. “You survive a blizzard, you get a free room.”)_ , Santa-the-doctor returns with good news: “We’ve rescued your car, girls. Not a scratch on it.” He hangs his keys on a ring above the wood-burning stove’s crackling fire. “But I wanted to ask you something.”

Evie slips her hand into Mal’s, which is shivering with relief. “What’s that?”

“Well,” he says, rubbing his beard, “near as I can figure, there’s no way your car should have survived the ice. We found her floating on the lake, on a sheet of ice no thicker than my head.”

A breath sticks in Evie’s throat, and Mal’s hand trembles.

“And besides that,” he continues, casting an apologetic glance at Mal, “there’s really no reason – and forgive me for saying so –you should have been able to carry this one,” he pauses here to quirk his thumb at Evie, “three miles in a blizzard, no matter how sprightly she might seem. So I just wanted to ask: Do you girls have any magic?”

Mal squeezes Evie’s hand, three quick pumps. A pulse of life. “It’s in our bloodlines.”

“Mmm, I suppose it is.” The doctor glances first at Mal’s purple hair, and then at Evie’s blue. “But I’m not talking about that kind of magic. No, this is more than hocus-pocus. This here is something deeper. Something that, I’m thinking now, saved both of your lives tonight.”

“It’s us.” The words flutter from Evie’s lips before she has time to think. “It’s us, M.”

Mal gazes at Evie as though she holds the key to all the stars, and Evie gazes at Mal as though she is her everything. Which she always has been.

"Yup." The doctor says, his voice gravelly and low. "I reckon you're right, young lady. Only kinda magic I've ever seen like this is connected to the heart. Gives a powerful kinda strength, that type of magic. Sometimes, the world recognizes it and responds ... sometimes, we do."

_Strength._ Like when a frozen lake holds up cars. Or when a powerful bond develops between a mortal and a deer. Or when a dragon-hearted girl is strong enough to carry her girlfriend three miles in a snowstorm.

Evie leans her cheek atop Mal's head. "Guess love really is strength, huh?"

Mal runs her fingers along Evie's arm. "But we already knew that. Didn't we?"

"Yeah, Mal. We sure did."

Because for as many obstacles as they've each overcome, there's always been one common denominator: the strength of _them_.

So it’s really no surprise that, after excusing themselves from the doctor to go upstairs, they enter a room painted in blues and accented by purples, with a bedspread striped in lilacs, lavenders, and turquoises. Somehow, this night is all about them.

“You saved my life tonight, M.” Evie stands beside the bed, watching as Mal closes and locks the door.

“You’ve been saving my life since we were six. So it’s only fair.” 

Mal leans her hand against the wall, her shoulders trembling. When she turns to face Evie, there’s a hunger in her eyes. A hunger pulsing in the depths of a gaze that sparks to life with embers of gold, almost as if every emotion Mal has ever felt for Evie is flickering into existence. 

Evie’s heart crashes into her throat. “Mal.” Her name is a whisper wrapped in love.

Mal holds tight to Evie’s gaze. “I’ve been scared for the past two months, E.” She advances toward Evie, one foot in front of the other. “Terrified I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“You’ve always been good enough for me.” Evie meets the love of her life in the middle of their room. “I could never be with anyone else.”

“Me neither.” Mal slides a blue curl behind Evie’s ear. “Because as long as we’re together, I really have no reason to be afraid. Do I?” 

“None that I can think of.”

“Yeah.” Mal reaches lower, to the belt of Evie’s robe. And tugs her closer. So close, their breaths mingle and dance. “We said some stuff tonight. About me being scared.”

“I remember.” Her body shaking, Evie curves her hips toward Mal’s touch. 

“After tonight…” Mal leans her forehead against Evie’s. “I want you to know that I want everything you want. A future. A family.” She curves her hand around the knot of Evie’s robe. “And really, I just want you. And I want you to have all of me.”

A shiver courses from Evie’s belly up into her chest, and down into lower places. “Then take me, M.” She threads her fingers through purple fire. “Because I’m yours. I always have been.”

“Are you sure?” Mal’s voice is full of husk.

“Definitely.” So is Evie’s.

A growl escapes Mal’s lips, and she crushes her mouth to Evie’s. Her fingers fumble at the knot around Evie’s robe, untying it so that Evie is completely naked to Mal’s touch. Wrapping her hands around Evie’s shoulders, Mal walks her backward to the bed, lowering her onto the sheets. She slips out of her own robe, and then joins Evie atop the mattress.

Their gazes forge in a flicker of heat, and Mal runs her hand from Evie’s collarbone, down in between her breasts, to the shivering skin of her belly. “You’re even more beautiful than I ever realized, Evie.”

Evie flushes and allows herself a glance at Mal, trembling at the sight of her lover’s smooth fairy-kissed skin, at her perfect breasts, at the toned muscles of her stomach. “So are you. You’re so beautiful, my dragon-hearted Mal.”

Without breaking their fire-forged gaze, Mal leans closer until she hovers a breath from Evie’s lips. “I’m going to kiss you all over now. I’m going to move slowly, and if you want me to stop, all you have to do is say –”

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Mal gifts Evie a cheeky grin. And then she kisses her. 

She kisses her lips, and she kisses her throat, and she kisses her breasts, and she kisses her stomach, and she kisses lower lower lower, until Evie is trembling in the brilliance of a white-hot heat and crying out her soulmate’s name.

And then Evie kisses Mal. She kisses every inch of skin, making Mal tremble, too. Making Mal cry out her name.

They tumble together in a tangle of limbs, and learn another aspect of this new Mal-Evie alignment: when one positions themselves above the other just right, they can dance together into the brilliance of white-hot heat, crying out each other’s names while their gazes mingle and meet in a soul-bond, forged together in ecstasy.

Finally, when their muscles are melted and their skin sings from bliss, they collapse onto their pillows, their gazes still soul-bonded.

Evie tucks strands of purple fire behind Mal’s ear. “You’re my forever,” she whispers.

“And you’re my always,” Mal whispers back.

And they fall asleep beneath their blue-and-purple cover, lip-to-lip, breath-to-breath.


	5. The Fifth Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls during their college years, culminating with a very special Christmas Eve when they're college seniors at the age of 22.

Evie once reflected that when Mal breaks open, when she shows her true heart, her artwork comes to life.

Well, after they return from Santa’s Bed-and-Breakfast, Mal does break open. But in so many different ways than she ever did before. And in each of those ways, she is more vibrant than Evie has ever seen her, as though Mal herself has come to life.

She breaks open for Evie. She shows her true heart, the one her mother taught her to camouflage.

She shows it to Evie in murmurs about their future, about all the adventures they will share. _(“It’s you and me, E. We’re going to have everything. A home. And a family. And someday, we’ll travel the world.”)_

She shows it when she gazes at Evie with such a deep and forever-kind of tenderness, Evie feels it in all the crevices of her heart. 

She shows it when the moon is a silver shadow within the sky, and they’re wrapped up in each other and their sheets, and Mal is memorizing every surface of Evie’s skin, her fingers tracing all the places she likes to touch. The curve of Evie’s neck. And the place beneath her breasts that makes Evie squeal. And the expanse of her legs, wrapped around all the secret places that are Mal.

She shows her true heart in the things she says, the things she does. 

Like when Evie becomes baby. Baby, when Mal’s wrapping Evie in her coat, kissing her lips, pulling up her jacket zipper. _(“So you stay warm, baby. I never want to see you cold again.”)_

And when Evie becomes princess. Princess, when Mal carries Evie to bed late at night, after Evie’s spent yet another day at her desk, researching all the ways to transform fabric with the principles of physics, determined to find a way to infuse cloth with heat. _(“You’re going to make it happen, princess. But first, you have to take care of yourself. Don’t make me hide your physics books. You know I will.”)_

And she shows it again, when Evie becomes Mal’s always girl, as they lay in bed late at night, heads on pillows. So close, Evie can feel her lover’s breath. And Mal traces a finger across Evie’s cheekbone, a tender glow reflected deep within her eyes. “You’re my always, Evie,” she’ll whisper. “My always girl.”

And Evie’s words will stick in her throat. So she’ll kiss Mal and kiss her and kiss her until she can whisper, “And you’re my dragon-heart.” Or she’ll murmur, “And you’re my fiery green eyes.” Or again, “And you’re my forever Mal.”

Because Evie breaks open, too. Breaks open in all the good ways.

She breaks open when she watches Mal paint. When she watches her transform a blank canvas into a masterpiece of purple and blue, spirals of color that come together to create a scene swirling with snowfall and pine trees and a pure white deer and one girl carrying another through the storm.

She breaks open when she dabs the paint from Mal’s skin, when she takes Mal’s hand and gazes into her eyes, when she kisses Mal’s lips and murmurs, “Beautiful. And not just the painting.” When she stands beside Mal at Mal’s first art show, and is forced to bite her trembling lip and close her aching eyes because Mal has just explained to a group of royals, “This is the night I found my always.”

She breaks open when she watches Mal intern as an art teacher on the Isle. When her forever Mal encourages the children to, “Always feel, even if it’s terrifying. Because that’s when you create your best.” And then she sets them loose with cans of spray paint, grinning as they turn their canvases into works of art, while Evie tears up at the sight of this open-hearted Mal.

She breaks open when Mal spends extra time with the red-headed girl they come to know as Cecily, who shows up to school with a twisted smirk and a penchant for causing trouble, and Mal tells her, “Mothers can be cruel. Trust me, I know. But don’t take it out on yourself or the other kids. Put it into your art.” 

And Evie’s heart swells because Cecily listens, and starts creating scenes of hope while Mal stands over her shoulder, murmuring her appreciation for the colors the girl splashes onto the canvas.

She breaks open when she finally finds a way to infuse warmth into cloth, and Auradon presents her with an award for innovation, and Mal sits in the audience as Evie collects her certificate, her gaze glowing with tenderness and warmth and something so Mal, Evie longs to paint it so she can stick it in her pocket. But she settles instead on falling into the expanse of green – an expanse she falls into again when they return home that night, and Mal shows her in touches and lips just how proud she is of her always girl.

She breaks open when Mal meets her after classes, and they walk hand-in-hand through their college campus, murmuring secrets about the future _(“We’re so close, M. Only two more years of college, and we can have it all.”)_. And they curl so close on their walks, the world becomes just them, dotted with the footprints they’ve left behind in a landscape of snow.

She breaks open when Mal, who never liked to socialize, comes with her to college parties; when she holds Evie’s hand as they talk to new friends; when she brings her cups of punch and plates of food, never wanting her princess to go thirsty or hungry; when she tires of the crowds and pulls Evie into the corner; when she kisses her lips and whispers, “Are we done, baby? I really want to take you home.” 

And Evie will gaze into fiery green eyes, glimpsing her future in their depths. Her heart will squeeze, so she will squeeze Mal’s hand. “Sure,” she’ll say. “Let’s get out of here, dragon-heart.”

She breaks open when she finds all the places Mal likes to be touched – the dent in her lip, which makes her sigh; the curve of her thigh, which makes her gasp; the peak of her breasts, which makes her moan. 

She breaks open when they make love. When they tangle together within their sheets, their breath scattered in gasps and their hearts beating wild-and-free. 

She breaks open when the lightning within her belly becomes too white-hot, and she knows they will never make it home. So she pulls Mal into bathrooms at parties, where they make love on the sink or against the wall or in an oversized-bathtub-not-their-own that they fill with steamy water while outside, the partiers pound on the door, needing to use the toilet, oblivious to the giggles and the moans and the _there-right-there-yes-Evie-yes_ -es filling the room; or she pushes Mal against a tree and makes love to her while their clothes are still on and rain pours down from the sky and the world is too dark and too wet for anyone to see, and Mal is groaning and gorgeous and glistening in all her rain-soaked glory; or she tugs on Mal’s hand until they’ve reached their midnight-purple saved-from-ice-in-a-blizzard car, and she strips them both naked while their breaths fog up the glass and they slide together, skin-against-skin, lost in a world of pleasure and bliss, always finding each other after, floating in gazes full of adoration and love.

They make love in their own home, too. The apartment they begin renting their sophomore year of college, with its mismatched sofas and its card-table-for-dining and its cracked-linoleum bathtub. They dare to take each other on each and every surface. Until one day, when Mal takes Evie on the card table, and Evie’s hips rise and crash, causing the table to buckle. 

They fall to the floor, a tangle of limbs. 

And Evie, her back aching, twines her fingers through Mal’s purple-fire hair. “We’re already down here,” she says, in a voice thick with husk. “Might as well continue what we started.” 

And Mal, her eyes gleaming with mischief and her oh-so-kissable mouth twisted into a wicked smirk, obeys Evie’s command.

Sometimes, they make love when they’re visiting Jay and Carlos in the boys’ tiny apartment. On the moth-eaten sofa. Against the kitchen counter while the boys are out, getting food. Once, they make love in their bathroom while the boys are playing video games, and Evie kisses Mal in secret places so deep, she causes Mal to lose the battle against silence, causes her to moan so long, so loud, the boys declare their bathroom off-limits for the duration of Mal and Evie’s stay. _(And then Mal and Evie make love on the bathroom sink when the boys are asleep.)_

Sometimes, they make love when not-so-little Dizzy stays overnight, eager to escape her classes at Auradon Prep. Or when Jane and Lonnie are visiting from their college in the north (where Lonnie escaped after a month in military academy, too miserable without Jane). And the next morning, they’ll find that Jane and Lonnie have disappeared to a hotel; or that Dizzy has disappeared beneath a pillow, which the exhausted girl claims “is the only way to block out the noise.”

_(After that, they provide Dizzy with earplugs whenever she visits.)_

Their senior year of college, they make love in the snowy wilderness, where Mal has whisked Evie away after a sleepless week of mid-year finals. The northern lights of Auradon play across the sky in a brilliance of purples and blues, colors seen once-in-a-lifetime during the month of December.

Mal blasts her car’s heater and twines together with Evie in the backseat of her car. They warm each other skin-to-skin, Evie caressing Mal and Mal caressing Evie in all the places they’ve come to know so well.

And when the light show turns brighter, bringing the world to life, Mal flips onto her side and cups Evie’s hand to her heart.

Thrills of electricity course through Evie’s palm at the feel of her soulmate’s heartbeat. “Ba-boom, ba-boom,” she whispers, and gazes into Mal’s eyes.

But there’s something different about Mal’s eyes tonight. They’re somehow more tender, somehow more deep, somehow more vulnerable than she’s ever seen them.

Evie twirls a strand of purple fire behind Mal’s ear. “What are you thinking about, Miss Mal?”

Mal slips a kiss onto Evie’s nose. “I’m thinking of you.” Her voice is a heartbeat’s murmur. “I’m looking into your eyes, and I’m thinking of my future.”

Evie’s heart ba-booms into her throat. “We’re almost there, aren’t we? Just two more quarters of college.”

“I can’t believe it.” Mal tips her forehead onto Evie’s. “You know, you changed my life that year. When you helped me get into Ivy. And you’ve changed my life every day since, whenever I realize that somehow, my best friend has fallen in love with me.”

“Not somehow.” Evie closes her eyes, savoring the feel of Mal’s breath dancing across her cheek. “It was inevitable, M. It’s what we’ve always been. Inevitable.”

“Yeah.” Mal wraps her fingers around Evie’s hand. “Inevitable. I like that.”

They fall asleep as the once-in-a-lifetime lights flash across the sky, knowing in their hearts that they will always be just that: inevitable.

But that night seems to change things. They stop making love in bathrooms at parties, and start making love in their sheets, Mal gazing at Evie the way she gazed at her as the lights danced across the sky. They stop finding secret moments to kiss, to touch, and make every moment a secret: away from the parties of college, away from the frolic and the games, away from everything but each other.

And Mal changes, too. She stops dying her hair the magenta she’s been dying it since high school, and re-dyes it to her natural lilac, strands of purple fire even purpler than Evie remembers. And she starts going for teaching interviews. _(“Because it’s what I’ve always wanted, E. To help kids realize that no matter where they come from, they can find themselves in art. And they can change their lives that way.”)_

Evie dresses Mal in her interview outfits, always purple, always curvy. Always designed and crafted by Evie. She buttons up Mal’s shirt. Fluffs her purple-fire hair. Kisses her button nose and her dimples. And says, “You’ve got this one, M. And if you get nervous, always remember that I believe in you.”

And Mal will gaze at Evie like she’s her whole future, wrapped in a blue-haired goddess. “How did I get so lucky?” she’ll ask, nuzzling Evie’s cheek. Or, “How can I get nervous when I know I have you waiting for me at home?” she’ll say, kissing Evie’s knuckles. And sometimes, when her eyes are deep and vulnerable, she’ll whisper, “Thank you for always believing in me, my always girl.”

And when she comes home, her shoulders bent and her mouth full of sighs _(“They went another direction, E.”)_ , Evie will wrap her in her arms and guide her to bed, where she’ll remind her with touches and kisses and looks how special she is, how loved she is, and how her future is always right there, twined in her dragon-hearted, forever Mal embrace.

Things change for Evie, too. Once classes wrap up that quarter in December, she starts spending more time in their tiny apartment. The world is cold, frosted over with snow, and the wind howls through branches missing their leaves. So Evie warms herself by re-learning how to cook (something she once knew, before she came to Auradon with its fancy kitchens and gave up on lessons instilled in her by her mother). 

Not all of her attempts are successful.

She tries her hand at baking muffins. 

Mal finds her in the kitchen, her cheeks covered with flour and the muffins smoking in the sink.

She tries her hand at making chicken.

Mal rushes her to the first-aid kit, bandaging Evie’s burnt fingers and kissing her wounds. _(“You’ll figure it out, princess. You’ve never failed at anything in your life.”)_

After that, she tries her hand at dipping strawberries in chocolate.

This, at least, is successful. So successful that Mal moans when she takes a bite, licks the chocolate from her lips, claims Evie with her dragon-fire gaze, and soon, makes Evie moan as well. _(“You were right, M. I figured it out.”)_

Aside from cooking, Evie decorates their apartment for Christmas. An evergreen tree in the corner, bedecked with Christmas lights that glitter in the darkness, illuminating the living room. Strands of silver garland strung across the mantelpiece. And window decals of two girls holding hands beside a Christmas tree, which decorates their double-pane while snow flutters down outside, frosting the glass.

And she hangs mistletoe from the bedroom ceiling, directly above the bed. 

When Mal spots the plant, she gives Evie a look that curls her toes, and tackles her onto their queen-sized. “As if you need more ways to get me to kiss you,” she growls, nipping at Evie’s lips and caressing her curves, making Evie tremble.

“If this is your way of getting rid of the mistletoe, dragon-heart,” Evie husks, slipping her hand beneath Mal’s shirt, “you’re really not doing a very good job.”

And then she makes Mal tremble. 

And Mal agrees to keep the mistletoe.

Beyond baking, beyond Christmas decorations, Evie is forever dedicated to physics-based fashion. She sells so many designs to Auradonian shops, each crafted from her award-winning insulating fabric, that the kingdom begins to roar her name. Royals wear Evie. Celebrities seek Evie. And athletes count on Evie to insulate them from all types of weather.

So when Evie is commissioned by the Auradonian ballet to make outfits for their production of the Nutcracker Suite, she devotes herself to the task. She measures and re-measures each dancer, creating costumes so authentic and so self-warming, the ballet company steps up its advertising and chooses to hold the production outside. The dancers sweep across a set made magical, transformed by the flutter of real snow. _(And Evie makes a fortune selling insulated mittens and sweaters to the audience.)_

And Mal watches Evie with so much pride shining from her eyes, Evie can’t help but shiver. “What are you thinking about, dragon-heart?” she asks.

Mal cups Evie’s cheek. “I’m thinking about my always girl. And how she’s already changing the world.”

And then she kisses Evie. Kisses her so deep, Evie’s shivers transform into quakes.

But Mal is still searching for work. She interviews at so many different Auradon schools and is rejected so many times, she stops sending out her resume. “Maybe I’m just not meant to be a teacher,” she says, forcing a smile. But her voice carries none of her dragon-hearted strength.

So Evie will cloak Mal in her arms and lead her to bed, where she reminds her again just how close she is to happiness.

The not-so-problematic problem is that Mal is a different type of teacher. She offers her students freedom, when other teachers offer them rules. She offers them spray paint, when other teachers offer them watercolors. She encourages them to paint their souls, when other teachers encourage them to paint by copying. 

So when a job comes open on the Isle – the place Mal has always reached the most student hearts – Evie sends off Mal’s resume. Because she’s never stopped believing in her dragon-heart. Even when her dragon-heart has stopped believing in herself.

Mal is called for that interview. And she gazes at Evie with a soul-deep stare while she accepts. _(After, she shows her always girl just how much she appreciates her always-faith by making her tremble throughout the night.)_

The next morning, Evie dresses Mal in her Evie-crafted interview outfit. She buttons her shirt. And she kisses her button nose. “You’ve got this, M. Your always girl believes in you.”

And Mal shows her gratitude by kissing her always girl long and deep.

Soon after, their world changes yet again.

It is the final night of the Nutcracker production. Evie is standing at the edge of the snowy stage, mending a rip in a costume, when she spots Mal hovering in the audience, holding up a sign. A sign that reads: 

I GOT THE JOB!!!

Their gazes meet, forged in fire and soul-bonded like so long ago. 

Evie smiles her of-course-you-did-dragon-heart smile. 

And Mal’s eyes liquify in the light of the moon.

They celebrate by drinking champagne by their Christmas tree, where the multi-colored lights splash across the window decal of two little girls holding hands. And then, when the champagne is gone, they celebrate by drinking in each other.

Their futures have never been more certain. They come to know they will live in the Ivy University village; the village where Evie is most famous for her designs, and where Mal can drive to work in under twenty minutes.

Which is why it’s strange when, a week before Christmas, Mal starts to disappear. She wakes up early and comes home late. She misses dates, leaving Evie notes that she “can’t make it tonight, E. See you soon.” And when Evie asks her where she’s been, she offers her a smile laced with secrets, but no explanations.

Evie misses Mal. She misses her touch. She misses her voice. She misses the way Mal tucks her in before going to bed _(“Don’t want you to get cold, baby”)_ and the way she holds her as they fall asleep _(“Because I can’t fall asleep without hearing your heartbeat, always girl.”)_. She misses her soulmate. She misses her best friend.

She misses her so much that, when her phone buzzes with a text from Mal on Christmas Eve, directing Evie to meet Mal at a strange address, Evie doesn’t stop to think. She jumps from the sofa and grabs the keys to her sapphire Mustang (purchased with her Nutcracker money). And rushes to her car in a world thick with snow, where the moon is hidden by a silver cloud.

The address leads her to a gingerbread cottage with a single turret, decorated with a gigantic evergreen wreath and sparkling with golden Christmas lights, all situated on a sprawling acre of snow-frosted, tree-sheltered land.

It’s absolutely stunning, and Evie can’t help the whisper of excitement that sings through her blood.

Because Mal’s car is parked in the driveway. And other than Evie’s Mustang, it’s the only vehicle on the land.

And there’s really only one reason Mal would have Evie meet her here, on Christmas Eve, when no one else is around.

So Evie steps up the driveway. And she knocks.

And Mal opens the door, her face glowing with a fairy-kissed light. “Welcome home, always girl,” she whispers. 

Evie presses her trembling hand to her mouth. “Is this what I think it is?”

“It’s all ours, E.” Mal’s voice shivers with excitement. “I bought it with the rest of my mural money.” 

“Oh, M.” Evie trembles on a sob.

Mal holds out her arm. “Can I take you on a journey?”

Evie links her arm through Mal’s. “You can take me anywhere.”

And so Mal leads Evie inside, to where a fire burns in a hearth and fresh baked sugar cookies warm on a counter and the rooms are decorated with murals. 

But they aren’t just any kind of murals.

These murals tell the story of _them._

“Once upon a time, two little girls met in an odd-place shop, standing at opposite sides of a Christmas tree.” Mal leads Evie into a guest room, decorated with images of the children they were at six.

“And even though those girls were torn apart by their mothers, they came back together one Christmas ten years later. And gave each other amazing treasures.” She leads Evie into a den decorated with two girls standing before a cracked mirror, one holding a book about magnets, the other wearing a warm leather jacket.

“These two girls began to fall in love, but their mothers were determined to keep them apart. Then one day on a Christmas Eve four years ago, they confessed their feelings on a frozen lake. And kissed until they soared.” She leads Evie into the master bedroom, which holds a sleigh bed decorated with a blue-and-purple comforter, situated before a wall depicting Mal and Evie holding each other during their first kiss.

“Unfortunately, one of these girls was afraid. It took almost losing the love of her life to make her realize: Love is power. As long as she opened her heart, she had nothing to fear.” Mal leads Evie down a hallway painted to resemble that night at Santa’s Bed-and-Breakfast, with a pure white deer leading them to the safety of a building decorated with glittering golden lights.

With each new painting, Evie presses her trembling hand tighter to her lips. She’s shaking now. Shaking with her arm linked through the arm of the girl she’s always loved, who leads her to a room without any murals. A room painted in white, where a fire burns in a hearth, and a Christmas tree glistens with golden lights similar to those they discovered at the bed-and-breakfast. 

And in a frame upon the wall, hanging above the tree as though it is the star, is the fabric heart Evie once slipped into the pocket of a six-year-old with fiery green eyes.

Evie stares at the heart, and her tears form thick within her throat. “Why is this room all white? Where are the paintings here?”

Mal cradles Evie’s cheek. “The things I want to paint haven’t happened yet. Would you like to know what they are?”

Evie shivers. “Please.”

Mal lifts her lips into a smile both wicked and laced with love. 

And then she pulls a gleaming sapphire ring from her pocket. 

And sinks onto her knee.

“Always girl, you’ve been my always since I was six-years-old. Will you do me the honor of being my always forever and becoming my wife?”

And Evie’s sobs are no longer trapped within her throat. They burst from her lips in laughter and tears. “Yes!” She sinks onto her knees, joining Mal on the floor. “Yes, I’ll be your wife, my forever Mal.”

Mal’s smile blossoms into a grin, and she slips the ring onto Evie’s finger. “Perfect fit.”

“As if it could ever be anything else.” 

Through laughter and tears that reach down deep inside, Evie captures Mal’s lips in a soul-bonded kiss. And they tumble together onto the floor to make another memory for their walls.


	6. And a Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls at the ages of 23 and 24, as they get married and start their family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell you how much writing this story has meant to me. I came out into the LGBT community this year -- after years of hiding my true self from a rather unaccepting family -- and had a very difficult time writing after (and before, when I was still making the decision to shine). But I was determined to accept myself completely; and finding Malvie, writing Malvie, and pouring my heart into this story has helped me to do just that. Thank you so much for joining me on this journey. And welcome to the final chapter.

Mal paints their walls with memories.

She paints them with the starlit night they hold their rehearsal dinner in a patio alcove at Santa’s Bed-and-Breakfast, where the snow covers the ground in thick white sheets and their guests clink silverware beneath the silver moon. Where Mal takes Evie’s hand and says, “Welcome to our future, always girl,” and Evie squeezes Mal’s fingers and whispers back, “I’m just where I always hoped I’d be.”

She paints them the next night, too, when the stars blink their silver greetings from the heavens, guiding Evie, who wears a long gown embroidered with whispers of blue, down the aisle to her forever Mal, who stands in a fairy-lit chuppa in her whispers-of-purple wedding dress. She paints them as they take each other’s hands while Fairy Godmother of their Auradon Prep days leads them through their wedding vows.

And she paints them as they speak their promises of love.

With tears glistening in her fiery green eyes, Mal holds tight to Evie’s hand and says, “Tomorrow is Christmas, Evie, which makes it seventeen-years-minus-a-day since I first watched a little girl in an odd-place shop who longed to learn about science. Today is Christmas Eve, which makes it four years since I carried that girl through a blizzard, knowing at last that if I just made it through that storm, I would do anything I could to make her my always. You, Evie Grimhilde, have given me everything I’ve ever wanted. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life giving you everything you want, too. So on this night, I pledge to you my heart. And my always.”

And Evie, whose throat is thick with tears, gazes lovingly at her forever. In that moment, the world is nothing but Mal. Nothing but the girl with the strands of purple-fire hair and the eyes lit like flame. Nothing but the dragon-heart who bites her trembling lip when Evie responds with, “You are my forever. But I knew that when I was six. You are my Mal. But I knew that the moment we first met eyes. You are my everything. But I think I knew that before I was ever born. I once whisked warmth into your frozen skin, and ever since (and even before), you’ve whisked warmth into my heart. On this night, I pledge to you: I will spend the rest of my life making sure you are warm, and loved, and wanted. Because I love you, Mal. I always will.”

And when Fairy Godmother, who disguises a telltale sniffle behind the flowing sleeve of her blue gown, pronounces them “married at last,” and tells them both, “you may kiss your bride,” Mal grins so wide, her face gleams with light. 

She wraps her arms around Evie’s waist and whispers, “I’m going to kiss you now. I’m going to move slowly, and if you want me to stop, all you have to do is say – ”

“Don’t you dare ever stop.” Evie adds a new word to their familiar game. And she kisses Mal so long, so deep, the cheers of their audience fade until it is just the two of them in a Christmas world fluttering with freshly fallen snow.

Fairy Godmother excuses herself to stand with the crowd, several of whom – Jay and Carlos, who hold hands; Lonnie and Jane, who snuggle; Ben, who clings to the hand of his foreign princess; Dizzy, who giggles and bounces on her toes – are smirking and murmuring about they-never-have-been-able-to-stop-kissing and maybe-we-should-cancel-the-after-party-and-just-get-them-to-their-room.

But Mal and Evie do break their kiss. Just not their soul-bonded stares. They hold onto each other tight as the moon shines down upon them both. “We did it, E.” Mal squeezes Evie’s hand, three quick pumps. A pulse of life.

Evie kisses Mal’s cheek. “We sure did, M. My beautiful wife.”

 _(And after food and dancing, Santa and Mrs. Claus lead Mal and Evie to their blue-and-purple room, where they tremble and moan throughout the night, caressing each other’s every curve. Mal does not paint this memory, but it lives dragon-fierce within their hearts, the night they made it official and became forever_ them.)

New memories are painted, too. Like their honeymoon in Wonderland. Or the day Mal carries Evie over the threshold of their gingerbread home. Or the day their lives begin to change again. A day that happens now:

It is a year-and-two months into their new lives. Their lives as sharing-dinner-in-the-evening, making-coffee-in-the-morning, kisses-and-cuddles-at-night and whispers-about-forever-as-they-tangle-together-within-their-sheets. Mal slips into bed beside Evie. And stares at the wall, a faraway look in her fiery green eyes.

Evie sighs. Placing her physics books onto her nightstand, she turns to her wife. “Okay, dragon-heart. You’ve had that look in your eyes all night. You wanna tell me what you’re thinking about?”

Mal swallows. And her faraway look becomes unreadable, save for the I-have-a-secret twinkle Evie has come to read so well. “We talked about starting a family once, E.”

Evie’s heart spasms. “I remember.”

Mal nibbles her lip. Shifts in their sheets. And starts again. “I’ve been watching my students. With their families. And I’ve been thinking…”

Evie tucks a strand of purple-fire behind Mal’s ear. “What are you thinking about, Miss Mal?”

“I want us to try for one, too.” Mal’s faraway look deepens and grows vulnerable. “I mean, I’m ready. If you are.”

Emotion fills Evie’s throat, making her gasp. “Oh, M.” She pulls her wife into her arms. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

And so they talk about how. They could adopt, would like to adopt, maybe a child from the Isle. And they decide that one day, they will. But first, they want to experience giving birth to a child (maybe children) of their own.

They talk some more about which of them will have this Mal-and-Evie child. And Mal surprises Evie. “Would you mind if I do it?” she asks. “I’d like the chance to bring something good into this world.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Evie cuddles Mal close. “I really want a dragon-hearted daughter.”

So they choose a donor with eyes exactly the shade of Evie’s brown, and they meet with a midwife, and Evie holds Mal’s hand as they try to turn their family from two-into-three.

Two months later, when the snow fades from the ground and the world turns green with new life, Mal guides Evie back to Santa’s Bed-and-Breakfast. There are secrets in her fiery green eyes. And a tremble in her smile.

She takes Evie to the place where once-upon-a-time, a pure white deer stood in the shadows of the stars, beckoning them to a safe place glittering with golden lights.

And stops.

Because there is something new here now. Something that makes them gasp.

In this place, where the deer once stood, there grows new life: two roses, one purple and one blue, flourish side-by-side as if they grow to be one-with-the-other.

“It’s like Santa said.” Evie traces touches down Mal’s arm. “We have a powerful magic. And sometimes, the world recognizes that magic.”

“And sometimes,” Mal whispers, cradling her hand to her stomach, “we do.” She meets Evie’s eyes. “I’m pregnant, E.”

Evie pulls back a breath. “You’re pregnant?” Her voice trembles with tears.

Mal nods. “I guess we’re going to get that family, always girl.”

The tears in Evie’s voice flow into her eyes, and she cradles her wife in a hug. “You’re amazing, M. So amazing and so beautiful. You make me so happy.”

“You’ve always made me happy.” Mal squeezes Evie. “So I guess it’s a fair trade.”

They fall into a silence broken only by the chirp of spring sparrows. And then Mal places her lips to Evie’s ear. “There’s something else.”

“You’re having twins?” The words are laced with laughter.

“Bite your tongue.” Mal delivers a soft swat to Evie’s shoulder. “But well, kind of.”

Evie’s eyes go wide. “You’re having twins?” This time, her words are spiked with shock. She pulls back to stare open-mouthed at the mother-of-her-soon-to-be-born-child

“I don’t know what I’m having yet.” Mal touches her hand back to her stomach. “But I do know this: our little red-headed friend’s mother has gotten tired of her daughter’s decision not to follow in her evil footsteps. She kicked her out of the house two days ago. And I know we just got pregnant, and neither of us really know how to be mothers yet. And you have every right to say no, but –”

“Mal.”

“Yes?”

Evie tucks a strand of purple-fire behind Mal’s ear. “Let’s go get our daughter and bring her home,” she whispers.

And so they make a trek to the Isle. And they bring home Cecily, an eleven-year-old with a wicked smirk and a penchant for art just like Mal’s … and a fondness for fashion coupled with a desire to learn, just like Evie’s. 

They tuck her up in a bedroom, where Mal has painted the walls with images of red flowers. They cuddle her when she wakes up in the throes of nightmares, her mother’s voice clawing through her head. And they tell her bedtime stories so she drifts off into a happier sleep _(“Once upon a time, there were two little girls who met in an odd-place shop…”)_. 

They also introduce her to eighteen-year-old Dizzy, who stays for a week and says to the little girl so many times, “Sweetheart, you don’t know how lucky you are,” that Cecily stops waking up in the middle of the night and starts bouncing through the house, beaming.

And so it comes that year at Christmas, when Mal is round with a child Evie never tires of glimpsing on a sonogram, that they decorate their house with a towering evergreen tree, bedecked with ornaments and lights, and they hang three stockings from the mantelpiece, and above those stockings, they place a certain fabric heart.

And so many friends come to stay with them that year – elementary-school-teacher Jane and her fiance, Lonnie, who recently opened a martial arts studio; and tourney-star Jay and veterinarian Carlos, who announce together with floppy-eared Dude that they’ve purchased a house of their own in a village not far away; and Dizzy, not-so-little Dizzy, who still loves ice cream, and who always walks with a bounce in her step, which will lead her to the village here, where she plans to pursue a course in fashion at Ivy.

And then Mal goes into labor late Christmas Eve. And all of their friends are there to see them off to the hospital. Which is a good thing, because Evie has suddenly forgotten how to walk without bumping into walls and how to open the door and even how to drive. So Carlos takes her keys and drives them both to labor-and-delivery, where Santa-the-doctor meets them after driving up from his bed-and-breakfast.

Mal screams and curses and, with blazing green eyes, shouts, “Why the hell did I ever agree to do this?” as Evie takes her hand – the hand she’s held so many times, ever since she was a six-year-old child – and says things like “you’ve got this, M,” and “keep pushing, dragon-heart,” and “you’re strong, so strong, and you’ve never looked more beautiful.”

And then there is a second of silence, followed by the most gorgeous sound Evie has ever heard: the cry of their newborn, dragon-hearted daughter. A little girl with brown eyes and purple-fire hair, who Santa-the-doctor wraps in a purple blanket and places into Mal’s arms. “Congratulations, young ones,” he says. “She’s a strong and healthy child.”

Evie gazes into her forever Mal’s eyes, her own eyes liquified with tears. Emotions clog her throat and block all speech, so she cradles Mal’s face and kisses her dimples instead.

Their friends swarm their room, admiring their child. Jay presents her with a tiny tourney uniform; Carlos with a small stuffed dog. Jane cuddles her to her chest, and Lonnie presents her with a speech about courage-coming-from-within. Finally, Dizzy kisses the baby’s cheek and leads the others from the room, winking at the new mothers as she closes the door.

At last, they are left alone with Cecily and Noelle Rose, a Christmas miracle. 

Evie links her fingers with her wife’s, gazing upon their girls. And realizes in that moment, when Noelle suckles at her mother’s breast and Cecily bounces on her mother’s bed, that she’s gotten everything she’s ever wanted.

She’s gotten a home.

And a family.

And her dragon-hearted Mal.

She interlaces her gaze with Mal’s in a soul-bonded stare. And reflects that all of this, her life, her happiness, her future, began with three things: A heart of fabric. A heart of paint. And a heart of snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good morning.

**Author's Note:**

> You're welcome to use the images you'll find throughout this story, but I ask that you offer me credit (they took hours to make). 


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